by P. J. Hoover
I’m right to hold my breath. I’m afraid to move. I wish I could snap my fingers and make this whole encounter go away. Make Chloe normal again. I think I should have let her die on the creek side.
“So I did.”
“No, Chloe, you didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did.” She says it as calmly as if she’s telling me about a lecture she fell asleep in. Like she couldn’t care less.
“No.” I breathe it out. Chloe can’t be a murderer. I know what happens to murderers in Hell. Not that Randy’s father wouldn’t deserve death. If he did make it to the Underworld, I’d place him in the chamber with Aeacus and Tantalus and Pirithous. I’d strip the skin from his body and then set him to burn for eternity. I’d feed his eyes to Tantalus and cut his hands off so he could never hit anyone again. And I’d visit him every week to make sure things hadn’t become too bearable for him.
“Yes,” Chloe says.
I shake my head. “Please tell me you’re lying, Chloe. Please. Just tell me you’re lying.” Persephone passes judgment on murderers. I know what will happen. I have designed those punishments myself.
Chloe laughs. “Don’t worry. No one will ever know.”
I’ll know. And that’s worse than anyone else.
“You didn’t do it.”
But Chloe nods, and whether she did or didn’t, she believes she did which is almost as bad. “Randy asked me to. He told me how to do it. It’s why I’m still here, Piper.”
“What do you mean, why you’re still here?” Her words are like crazy words spinning around in my head. How can everything have changed so much in such a short time?
Chloe shrugs. “It’s why I didn’t die. I needed to do this. It’s why Thanatos didn’t take me.”
She says the name Thanatos, assuming I know who she’s talking about. I do. He’s the winged man who collects souls and brings them to the banks of the River Acheron. But I pretend I don’t know. “Who?”
“Death. I saw him there. That day by the creek. But he left me, and I knew there was a reason. And killing Randy’s father was the reason. Don’t you see that, Piper? God, it makes such sense now.”
She saw Death, but she acted like she didn’t? Or did she only remember him afterward?
“I think you need some sleep, Chloe.”
Chloe sets down her coffee cup, now halfway empty and still steaming. “Yeah. You’re right.” She stands up and heads for the stairs, leaving me there at the table. “But I just thought you’d want to know.”
I watch her leave. I do want to know. And I don’t want to know. And I know whatever else I do in life, I cannot let Chloe end up with an eternity in Tartarus because of my selfishness. No matter what.
Chapter 38
Choices
The more I think about Chloe, the more certain I am she didn’t do it. She did not kill Randy Conner’s father. He may be an abusive monster, and he may deserve to die a slow, painful death and suffer an eternity in Tartarus, but Chloe did not kill him.
It turns out I am wrong—partly. When I get to school Monday morning, the word is out. Randy’s father is dead. One of the terrorist groups made good on its threat. They planted a bomb under the steel struts of a downtown dome and then blew it up. Hundreds of people had died in the explosion and in the fires that came afterward, and Randy’s father had been one of them. And now they’re threatening to blow up more if the city doesn’t dismantle all the disperser missiles.
It was a terrorist casualty. Chloe could not have been responsible. She didn’t do it.
The humidity from the day before has doubled, and smoke from the fires mixes with it. It feels like we’re living in a giant brick oven. It feels like every bit of rain that poured down during the hurricane has lifted into the air and hangs there smothering the city of Austin. Normally, I’d text my mom to see what the city council plans to do in response to the terrorist threat, but today is not a normal day, and my life is far from normal.
I head to first period, trying to do the things I’m expected to do, but how can I when everything has changed? I’m not even the person I thought I was. My life to this point has been some kind of fabrication.
The tube is already on when I get to class. That kid from our school is being interviewed, the sophomore who claimed he could predict when the next heat bubble was coming. He’s sitting by a table with a giant piece of equipment on it that looks like some kind of satellite dish connected to a coffee maker. I have to wonder where he got the materials to make it.
The camera zooms out, and I recognize the city council chambers. It’s a full room except for my mom and, of course, Councilman Rendon. Wherever my mom is, she’s even missing the council meeting.
“So what you’re saying is that you were approached by one of these terrorist organizations?” the acting councilman asks the kid. My mom had mentioned Councilman Morse taking over in the interim until elections were complete, but this seems way early for her to be having news conferences. Is she power hungry just like Rendon was?
The kid, whose name—Toby Garcia—flashes below him on the screen, nods. “That’s right. They came to my house Friday night when everyone was sleeping. They grabbed me from my bed and started asking me all sorts of questions.”
“What kind of questions?” Morse asks.
Toby pats the equipment beside him. “Well, they wanted to know all about the HB Predictor.”
The words Heat Bubble Predictor flash on the screen.
Morse nods to encourage him to continue.
“So I told them about it. Told them how it can predict the bubbles.”
“But it didn’t work this week, did it?” Morse asks, and the way she annunciates it, it’s like she’s almost happy the HB predictor is flawed.
“Something else happened,” Toby says. “Something happened to change the weather. Because a bubble was coming; I guarantee it.”
Morse looks down at her notes and nods. “Yes. Fine. So tell us, after that what happened?”
“They told me they wanted me to work for them. They wanted me to predict the bubbles so they could cause extra destruction when the bubbles were coming.”
This just feels off. Terrorist groups normally do the things they do because they think it will help their cause, even if it normally ends up happening in a destructive sort of way. I glance around the council chamber again and wonder where my mom is. Why isn’t she watching this, too?
“What did you tell them?” Morse says.
Toby Garcia looks directly in the cameras, and not an inch of fear shows in his eyes. “I told them to get screwed. That I’d never help their psycho organization.”
When the show cuts to commercial, I get a bathroom pass and leave. I can’t take it anymore. All people are going to do is talk about the terrorist attack anyway. I need answers. My mom’s not home, but I don’t want to hear her lies anyway. Our relationship is built on lies. My blood boils when I think of her. What I need is to find my dad.
I walk out to the breezeway, and when the heat and smoke hit me, I embrace them, letting them soak into me. The heat of the earth is not enough to bother me. I’ve dared the fires of the River Phlegethon and the torments of Tartarus. But it’s still laughable. I don’t know who I am. How can Piper be Persephone?
I head to the concrete bleachers around the soccer field, and even though there’s plenty of shade covering them, I find a spot out in the sun. It burns my legs when I sit, but I force myself to tolerate it. Down below, there’s a man in a baseball cap spreading chalk on the fake grass. Mr. Kaiser’s talked about how fields used to be made from real grass before the Global Heating Crisis, but now they’d never waste water for such an unnecessary purpose.
The man moves in a line, heading away from me. He reaches the end, then turns around, and heads back, a few yards over. When he’s almost done with the line, he looks up at me as if he knows I’ve been watching. And then he waves.
My father. He’s heard me asking for him even though I haven’t uttered a word. I wav
e back, unsure if I should go meet him.
But he puts up his hand. “I’ll be right up. Just give me a second to finish this line.” His words find their way to me even though he’s far away.
I’ve given him eighteen years; another minute or two shouldn’t matter. So I nod in acknowledgement, and rest my elbows on my knees to wait.
Zeus finishes the line, and then the chalk canister disappears into thin air. He looks at me and smiles and then climbs the bleachers to sit by me.
“Talk about humidity…”
It’s the second time we’ve spoken, and again he starts the conversation by talking about the weather. I want to start it by talking about me. “Who am I, Dad?”
He smiles. “You’re my daughter Persephone.” He grins at me, and it’s so infectious, I want to join in with him. But I resist the urge, instead holding my face as impassive as I possibly can.
I smirk. “Yes, I’ve managed to figure out that much on my own.”
“So what do you need me for?”
“To tell me the rest. To tell me what I don’t know.”
“Like…?”
“Like who is Piper?” It’s an obvious question, but there’s been no obvious answer I can figure out.
“You haven’t talked to your mom yet?” Zeus asks.
“My mom’s been gone all weekend. I thought she might be with you.” And a spark of worry creeps inside me.
“The assembly of gods found out what she did, and they brought her in for questioning. Lots of the gods are unhappy about the last eighteen years.”
“Will she be back?” I ask, not sure what answer I want.
“Eventually,” Zeus says. “But right now it’s just you and me.”
“And by me, do you mean Persephone or Piper?”
Zeus takes off his baseball cap and holds it in his hands. His skin is tanned to a perfect shade of gold contrasting against his platinum hair. “How about both?”
I nod. “That’s a good place to start.”
“You are Persephone.”
“Fine. But I remember the last eighteen years of my life as Piper.”
“That’s because eighteen years ago, your mother did the unspeakable.”
I know what he’s talking about as soon as he says it. “She killed a phoenix.” But I’m still not sure how it relates to me.
Zeus nods. “She sacrificed a phoenix. When Hermes brought you back from the Underworld, she sacrificed a phoenix, and you were reborn as Piper. A brand new baby from the ashes of Persephone and the bird itself.”
The blood drains from my face. I know I’m staring at him, but I can’t get my mind around what he’s saying. “Sacrificed a phoenix?” My tattoo. Sacrifice. The answer has been on my arm this whole time.
“It’s a horrible sin, but one containing the power of rebirth. The bird died, and Persephone died—for a time. But then she came back. As you.”
“So my mother killed the phoenix?”
And my mother killed me.
My mother is the one who belongs in Tartarus.
“She hid you from us. Locked your identity away inside a box crafted by Hephaestus himself.”
A box. My mind flies to the gift I received on my birthday.
Zeus continues. “It wasn’t until the first time September came and you didn’t show up in the Underworld that I realized what she did. Nobody did. But by then it was way too late.”
I blow out a breath slowly, trying to calm my voice and keep it from shaking. “I never went back, did I?”
“No.” Zeus looks up at the sun which is moving behind a cloud. “And autumn never came. Nor did winter.”
The pieces of the truth move together and take shape. “You mean the Global Heating Crisis is entirely because of me?” It doesn’t even sound real.
But Zeus looks at me and chuckles. “Well, of course. If you never go away, then your mother has no reason to make Earth change seasons. It’s year round summer as far as she’s concerned.” He wipes his forehead. “And a year round sauna for everyone else.”
“So you’re saying if I go back to the Underworld, fall and winter will come?” Could it really be that easy?
“Things are pretty out of whack right now,” he says. “It may take a bit of settling. But once all the climactic changes get in order, then yeah. You don’t even have to go back to the Underworld. You just have to reside in the domain of another god where your mom can’t get to you.”
The domain of another god. “Like when I went to visit Shayne?”
Zeus nods. “Exactly. But don’t think you have to be stuck with Hades. Your options are wide open.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean? I love Shayne.”
Zeus rolls his eyes. “Don’t overrate love. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention you have choices.”
Is my father telling me to sleep around? Or am I totally misinterpreting him? “What choices?”
Zeus flicks his hands. “Well, how about Ares for starters?”
“Reese?”
“Well, sure. He’s my son. He’s a good looking kid. And let’s face it: he’s been pining for you since day one. Seriously, I figured with the arguments he and Hades used to have, we’d be looking at another world war.”
With Ares vying for the Underworld, it seems the next world war may start there.
“He’s a little on the pushy side.” And I realize so, too, is Zeus, king of the gods.
“But he thinks you’re gorgeous. Not to mention, he’s loved you as long as Hades.”
Ares was pushy ages ago. And Ares is pushy now. Not much has changed.
“I just think you should talk to him,” Zeus says. “Maybe when we’re done talking.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have anything to say to him.”
Zeus makes a dismissive gesture with his hands. “Suit yourself. But he’s waiting for you over by the greenhouses just so you know.”
“I’m not interested in Reese,” I say to make sure he’s clear on it. But the thought that Reese is waiting to talk to me right now makes butterflies start moving around in my stomach.
Zeus pretends to think some more. “I guess there’s always Hermes. He’s a good kid.”
The family tree in my mind plays before me. “Hermes is your son, too.”
Zeus nods and smiles. “I have lots of kids. It makes the wife a bit on the crazy jealous side, but I’m king of the gods. What does she expect?”
I can’t believe my father is telling me this. And worse, he doesn’t seem to want to stop.
“Or there’s Apollo. His twin sister might hunt you down, but you’d have fun before it ended.”
“Hunt me down?”
“I’m sure Hephaestus will be bothering you soon enough too, once he finds out where you are. Although that would just have to be an affair on the side. Aphrodite may not like her ugly husband, but that doesn’t mean she wants you running around with him either.”
“Why does it seem like you don’t want me to be with Shayne?” To me, Shayne seems like the obvious answer.
Zeus pinches my cheek like I’m a five-year-old. Which I am not.
“Because I just can’t stand the thought of my darling daughter running around with all those monsters and fires, doling out torture to everyone who happens to kill thy neighbor. Change might agree with you.”
“I liked being the Queen of the Underworld.” And I love being with Shayne.
Zeus points upward. “But think of the sun with Apollo. Or far away battles with Ares. There’d be plenty of death to be had with Ares in charge. Or Hermes, carrying messages around the world. You could see Japan.”
“Or the Underworld, with Shayne.”
Zeus exhales in disgust. “Yes, or the Underworld with Shayne. Just talk to Reese.”
“No.” I sit back, letting the bleachers support me. “What about my mom?”
“Ah, the lovely Demeter. I’ve always had a sweet spot for her—even with all her peculiarities.”
“Will she go to Tartarus?
” I’ve been told more than once the price for killing a phoenix.
Zeus laughs, but it’s not funny to me. I don’t want to see my mom there even if she has been the most overprotective, overbearing mother in the whole wide world.
“She should.”
“Will she?”
Zeus puts up his hands in defeat. “The assembly’s split on it currently. There are some who would love nothing more than to strip her rank and cast her into Tartarus.”
“But not everyone?”
“Not everyone. There are others who recognize that what she did, she did for love. And they want her to resume her role here on Earth.”
Love. My mom has a strange way of showing it. “Send her home so I can talk to her,” I say.
Zeus nods. “I think that’s a good idea.” He stands to walk away. “And don’t forget…”
I scowl because I know what he’s going to say.
“…talk to Ares.”
Chapter 39
Betrayal
I have no intention of talking to Reese. I tell myself this the entire time I’m walking toward the greenhouses on the outskirts of the school property. It’s like my mind and my body are at odds. I try to justify my actions by telling myself that the only thing I’m going to say to Reese is that I never want to talk to him again. And then he’ll leave me alone, and I can have a future with Shayne.
Reese is waiting for me, leaning against a brick wall, and I know the second I see him that me being here is a huge mistake. I should leave, but before my legs can process this command, he’s there beside me, and his smell hits me like simmering ambrosia. Intoxicates me.
He takes my hand, and though my mind screams at me to yank it away, I don’t, instead letting him hold it as we walk.
“I told you I wouldn’t wait forever, and now I don’t have to.”
His arm is next to mine, and I can feel the sweat from his bare shoulder mingling with my own.
I try to relax, but something about his voice sends shivers through my body. And his smell is amazing. I take another breath and let it course through me. It makes me think everything is normal—that everything will be okay.
