Solstice

by P. J. Hoover

  “Stop!” I say it aloud, but the voices ignore me.

  Piper. It’s only fair.

  We want to see you.

  When they say it, I know where they’re coming from. The one place in Hell I haven’t been. Tartarus. Hearing the sounds helps me realize why Shayne didn’t want me to go there. They’re tearing at my insides, devouring my brain. I can’t get them out.

  Visit us.

  It’s been so long.

  We miss you.

  You belong with us.

  My heart skips around in my chest, and a hollow feeling of dread settles on my stomach. I just want them to go away. Squeezing my eyes shut again, I think of Shayne. Of Chloe. Even of my mom. Anything to make them depart.

  We’ll tell you secrets.

  My eyes snap open, and the voices stop.

  They know they’ve got me.

  I don’t even think about what I’m doing as my feet move me. The voices lead me to Tartarus. The ground feels like gravel under my feet, and the farther I get into the passageway, the less I can smell the comforting banks of Acheron and the more I can smell something close to burning flesh. But I don’t care; I need to get there.

  I see the flickering redness of the flames and feel the heat long before I round the corner of the tunnel, and when I do come around, the river is on fire. A name rings out in my head from deep in my memories. Phlegethon. The river of fire leading to Tartarus. I tie my hair into a knot, hoping to keep any stray flames from catching it. My mind screams at me to turn around. To run to the comfort of Shayne’s home. But I need answers, and Tartarus seems willing to give them to me.

  Like the other rivers, the dock extends into the water, but here it is surrounded yet untouched by flames. I want to turn and run, to get away from the flames at all cost, but the voices beckon. I step forward, forcing myself to move until I’m on the hard wood of the dock. The flames hiss up over the sides of my sandals as I walk on the wood, but somehow they don’t burn me. I wrap my arms around my middle and step into the waiting boat, and before I can change my mind and turn around and leave, it begins to move, and I’m out in the middle of the river of fire.

  Burning souls. I know Phlegethon is an initiation into the place of eternal torture. The flames taunt me, but why they don’t touch me, I’m not sure. Even my curly hair seems safe tied up at my neck.

  Come to us.

  Be with us.

  As I move across the burning river, the voices start up again. I open my mind and let them in, wishing I could make the boat move faster. Tartarus holds my answers. I’m as sure of it as I am that there are questions. And that secrets have been kept from me my entire life.

  We’ve missed you.

  I miss the voices, too. I’ve never known them, but I miss them. They are a part of me. And I wonder if I do belong in Tartarus like Minos said. If I did kill a phoenix.

  The boat seems to be on fire as it moves on. The wood is red hot like the embers in Shayne’s hearth, and around me, sparks crackle. But the heat doesn’t harm me, and soon, it’s carried me to the dock on the other side. Ahead, all I see is a wall of flames, and for a second, my stomach tightens, and I wonder what I’m doing. Nothing good happens in Tartarus.

  Come, Piper.

  A single voice calls out, and I know it. I can’t place it, but it’s drawing me, pulling me through the wall of flames. I close my eyes and walk forward, and then I’m on the other side and immediately the smell of rot and filth hits my nose. I force myself to take a deep breath, and my stomach lurches until I’m on my knees heaving up nothing but bile and emptiness since I’ve been asleep for over a day.

  When I stand up, I wipe my mouth on my bare arm and look around. A desert stretches before me, and I start walking straight, knowing I’ll end up somewhere soon. Somewhere besides the rancid smelling barrenness surrounding me.

  I walk for miles, and the desert moves by in fast forward, the same way it did in Asphodel, except there’s nothing to see around here, and soon I begin to doubt myself. The voices have left me, and there’s not a soul around. Maybe I should turn and go back.

  Answers. We have answers.

  The voice comes out of nowhere, and I shift right, moving in the direction I know it’s coming from. Its promises make the ball in my stomach tingle, and with one step after another, I’m soon approaching a mountain range with a medieval castle high on the top. It’s where I need to go.

  I start toward the mountain, taking another mouthful of the rot around me, and force myself to take breath after breath until my stomach no longer lurches. But as I take my first step, something grabs my foot from behind, sending me flying face first to the hard-packed sand.

  I kick with the other foot, and look down, seeing a skeleton hand clenched around my Achilles tendon. Another hand pops out of the earth and grabs at my leg, and they pull me until I’m up to my knee in the gritty sand. A wave of panic rolls over me when I realize I can’t even kick my leg anymore. The hands grasp harder, and sharp pieces of bone cut into my flesh. I lift my head and spit out the sand in my mouth and try to grab my leg and pull it out myself. They’re cutting and clawing and more than anything, I wish Shayne were here with me. But he doesn’t even know I’m down here in Hell. Not to mention in Tartarus. And I can’t tell him, or he’ll take me away, and I’ll never get my answers.

  “Let go!” I scream when I realize I’m thigh deep in the sand. I’m going to suffocate, and no one will ever even know where I’ve been. I can imagine my body hidden beneath the sand forever in Hell.

  But at my words, the skeleton hands obey me and let go. I twist around until I’ve yanked my leg free then get up and run for the mountain, trying to get off the deadly desert. Sand is caked on my sweaty face, and I claw it off as I run. I will not die before I get my answers. I need to know what Shayne knows. Whether he wants to tell me or not.

  I’m halfway up the mountain when I see a naked man with shoulders so wide, I’m sure he could pick me up and snap me like a dehydrated stick given a chance. But I have no intention of giving him a chance. He’s standing there on the mountainside supporting a boulder nearly as large as he is with only his sheer mass holding it in place.

  I move around to the side, trying to hide behind a large pile of boulders. Like my Earth above, there aren’t any bushes or shrubs around. Too much heat must kill them off down here, also. From my vantage point, I see the sweat pouring down his dark naked body, tracing patterns through his hairy chest, and my chest tightens when I realize I have no way to get around him unseen. I’ll have to wait for him to move.

  “Come out and play with me.”

  His voice is not at all what I’m expecting. Actually, I’m not expecting his voice, but had I been, the sweet, melodic tune is so unfitting the massive man, I don’t even try to pretend I haven’t heard. I lift my head slowly above the rock pile and see the man is looking my way. His face is covered with a smile so inviting, I find my legs carrying me around from my hiding place and over to him.

  “Lovely. Simply lovely.”

  Heat floods my face when I realize he’s talking about me. He turns sideways, propping his boulder up with the side of his body, and I can now see his genitals hanging there between his legs.

  He chuckles, and I lift my eyes, realizing I’ve been staring directly at them. But my eyes keep trying to look back down as if they’ve got a mind of their own. I pull them away against their will.

  “It’s okay to look.” He shifts, and I catch a glimpse out of my peripheral vision. “I don’t mind at all.” And he reaches down and holds his penis, cradling it in his hand.

  “I’m only here to get some answers.” I point toward the top of the mountain, happy to have something to focus on besides his private parts. “I’m heading up there.”

  “Ah.” The man laughs again, and I hear the melody pulling me in.

  “Do you know who lives there?” I ask. I’m still looking at the castle, and this close, I can see the orange and purple storm clouds swirling overhead and
the lightning striking so close, it must be hitting the stones.

  “The master of Hell, of course.” The man wipes his forehead and blessedly turns away from me. “Do you mind if we get going? I still have to get this boulder to the top.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he leans over, places both hands on the black rock, and begins to push.

  “Do you mean Sha—” I catch myself, “—Hades?”

  The man barks out a laugh followed by a huge grunt. The vein on his temple nearest me bulges out so far, I think it might burst. “Not that master.” And for the first time, his tone has a hint of disgust in it.

  “Then who?”

  He turns to me, holding the boulder in place while his eyes gaze my way. But he’s still smiling. “You know.”

  It’s not a question. He knows I know. And I realize when he says it I do. “Aeacus.” Another of the ancient kings ruling over the domains of the Underworld.

  The giant of a man nods and turns back to the boulder.

  I motion at the rock even though he’s not looking at me. “Why are you doing that?”

  “Somebody needs to. And seeing as I’ve been unfairly accused and left in this place of eternal damnation, I find it’s my job.”

  “Unfairly accused?”

  He gives a giant shove, pushing the boulder a good two feet ahead. And he’s fast; he moves up before it can slip even an inch. “Accused of killing innocent people. Travelers and guests to my house.”

  He’s got the boulder moving at such a clip, I’m having a hard time keeping up. “And did you?” He’s almost jogging behind it.

  Out comes another laugh, though, at this point, I notice it’s missing most of its humor. “Of course not!”

  “So you didn’t kill anyone?”

  He turns to me, and shakes his head, sending sweat flying in all directions, some landing on my arms and chest. I notice his naked parts shake when he does this, and I avert my eyes, looking instead at the rock. But he catches me looking and smiles.

  “What is this? A trial?”

  I don’t answer. I’m certainly not going to apologize for asking.

  “Fine. Yes. I killed many, many people. But every single one of them was trying to kill me first. Or cheat me. Or rape my wife. And so I killed them all.” The man turns to me and licks his lips, and his private parts seem to grow in size. “And might I just say I enjoyed it immensely.”

  My face freezes, and I know without a shadow of a doubt this man belongs right where he is. Here in Tartarus. Spores of evil coat him. I’m ready to leave him, and a weight lifts off me when I see we’re only steps away from the top.

  His melodic voice sings to me. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  I shake my head. “No, you didn’t.” I don’t want to give this monster my name.

  “I’m Sisyphus.” And with a final push, the boulder crests over the top of a ridge, hitting a plateau. Sisyphus moves it around, making sure it’s resting perfectly on flat rocks. He bends down, propping it in place with some smaller rocks to keep it from moving. And then he turns to me, and when he opens his mouth, I smell his breath—foul like he’s been feasting on the bodies of his victims. He narrows his eyes, and my skin begins to crawl.

  Every part of me wants to run away. But I know I need to finish this.

  Sisyphus licks his teeth and smiles. “I know who you are.” The melody has vanished from his voice.

  He takes a step toward me, and I take a step backward.

  “You do?”

  Sisyphus nods. “Uh huh. Even in your disguise. You can’t fool me. And I know why you’re here.”

  “Why?” My throat’s so dry I can barely squeak it out.

  “You’re checking in for him. I knew you’d come. Aeacus said you wouldn’t. Said he’d be lord forever. And maybe that’s your biggest mistake. You never should have come.”

  He takes another step toward me, but my head shifts at a sound. I look past his broad shoulder and see the boulder rock on its pedestal. Sisyphus hears it, too, and turns, but too late. The boulder moves again, shifting around the rocks underneath it. Sisyphus lunges backward, throwing his arms out, but the momentum can’t be stopped. His fingernails bend backward as the boulder pulls out from underneath his grip. And then it begins to tumble, picking up speed, until it’s a blur on the side of the mountain.

  “No!” Sisyphus doesn’t even look my way a final time. He’s off and running so fast, he blurs into the mountainside, and I’m left alone on the plateau with the dark castle ahead.

  Chapter 34

  Aeacus

  When the slick naked form of Sisyphus disappears, I expect to be able to breathe again. But as I face the dark castle, my chest tightens so ferociously, I can’t force air into my lungs.

  “Come inside.”

  “Come to us.”

  “We’ve missed you.”

  The voices again. But they aren’t in my head this time. They’re seeping out of the walls of the castle, as if a chorus of dead souls has been used to form the stones.

  I want to turn and run, but I need to go in. Sisyphus said he knows who I am. And I want to know. Need to know. My answers are only footsteps away. I lift my right foot, forcing the knee to bend, and plant it in front of me. Dust lifts from the ground, swirling at my feet and then growing until I’m standing amid a nebula of dead ground. I lift my left leg and plant it ahead of the right. My feet feel like stones. The dust engulfs me. And all my senses are screaming at me to not go inside.

  “Yes. Come closer.”

  The voices pull at me, and I am a slave to my own curiosity and to their promises.

  “We have answers.”

  “We’ve missed you.”

  Overhead, thunder booms, and purple lightning hits a high tower, electrifying it for a moment—outlining it against the stormy orange sky. The castle holds in the electricity as the stones sizzle, unwilling to let it go, but finally the outline of the building disappears, and the tower remains unscathed.

  One step at a time, I make my way forward. I’m almost there when a skeleton hand reaches out of the ground. It doesn’t grab for me but instead beckons with a long, bony finger. Drawing me forward. Another one comes up beside it, and then another off to the left and closer to the thick doors. All around me, I see the bony hands, palms up, fingers curling inward, making me move. They stay out of my way, and soon I’m at the side of a moat, and a drawbridge slams to the ground.

  I jump back but only for a second. Once the dust settles, I set my feet on the wooden planks, my legs trembling under me.

  Never leave us.

  You belong with us.

  The voices come from every part of the castle. The stone walls. The wooden drawbridge. The cobblestones up ahead. I close my eyes, trying not to think about Minos and the dead phoenix, and I remind myself—they’ll tell me what I want to know. What I need to know. And then I’m out on the cobblestones, and the drawbridge rises behind me.

  I stand in the middle of a gravel courtyard with only the smell of death to keep me company. Fountains sit in the four corners, but they’re dry and cracked like the fountains in my world above ground. I think of Sisyphus. Of him gripping his penis and of his melodic voice. And then there were his words. I know who you are.

  “Who am I?”

  I don’t realize I’ve said it aloud until I hear the echoes of my whisper all around me.

  Who am I? Who am I?

  It taunts me as it mixes in with the other voices. It blends into their chorus. I put my hands over my ears to hold out the noise, and then another voice takes over. One which drowns out the rest.

  “Come join us. We will show you.”

  To the left, a carved wooden door gapes open. Yellow light pours out from inside, and I know I need to go there. I steel myself against my fears, and walk across the gravel toward it.

  I shield my eyes when I walk in, but the door slams, and the blinding yellow light extinguishes. I’m left standing in a room with just enough light from the t
orches on the walls to see a long wooden table ahead of me and three men seated around it. My eyes move from one to the next, trying to figure out what I’ve gotten myself into. But before I can take them all in, the man at the head of the table stands up.

  He’s got a close-cut dark beard, and on top of his thick curly brown hair sits a golden crown covered in gems which send reflections of color across the table and the room. When he stands, I notice he’s holding a golden goblet decorated with gems equaling the ones on his crown.

  “I certainly hope Sisyphus didn’t scare you.” His voice is in my head and in my ears, and he raises the goblet to his lips and takes a long drink, leaving a red stain on the hair of his close moustache.

  “He did. He did.” The man on the right cackles when he says it. “Look at her eyes. Such pretty eyes. Tasty eyes. One at a time. Savor them.” His own eyes cross when he speaks, and his lips are so dry, the skin is cracking.

  The man—the king—at the head of the table whirls on the man who’s spoken. “Tantalus, we shall not eat our guest. It’s not polite.”

  Tantalus, the man on the right, rubs his hands together. “But look at her neck. Like a pearl. And her breasts.” He licks his lips, and reaches for a plate of fruit on the table.

  I want to turn around and run out the door. I glance over my shoulder, but can’t see the door anywhere. It’s vanished—blended into the stone wall behind me.

  The king slams his goblet down on the table, sloshing thick, red liquid over the sides. “Can’t you see she’s scared, you idiot?” He raises a hand and points it at the man, and the plate of fruit moves until it’s just out of his reach.

  Tantalus screams like he’s been wounded, and his fingers claw at the table, snapping against the hardness of the wood. There are scratch marks decorating the wooden planks in front of him. I force my eyes away from him and back to the king.

  “Please excuse his rudeness, my lady. We don’t make a habit of eating our guests,” the king says.

  The man on the left laughs. It’s the first time I look at him, and my breath catches. He’s about my age with light brown hair that reaches past his ears, and is muscular and sculpture-worthy. He’s clothed in a toga, and when he looks at me, his green eyes sparkle with humor.