The relief I felt was almost crippling. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and finally succeeded in shaking the nightmare image of my mother from my mind.
I glanced over my shoulder to check on Violet. She was a few feet behind us, distracted by the sights, slowing down to marvel at the landscape and the dead. I imagined the look on her face was pretty similar to a human child’s first trip to Cinderella’s Castle.
With a heavy sigh I returned to the path ahead. “How long until we’re there?”
Mel’s gestured ahead with her staff. “Those mountains. Through the Gates of Erebos to the Houses of Nyx.”
“Long ways off,” I replied, the distance quite far.
She nodded.
The air was dry and hot. Overhead, the dark undulating clouds foretold of a storm that would never come, never quench the barren ground at our feet, never alleviate the dead’s eternal thirst. I had only been in the Underworld a few minutes, but already the thirst was there, making my mouth dry.
In a field to our right grazed a herd of massive black cows among gray flowers and white poplars. The scene was completely at odds with the hell surrounding us. Though, the huge figure watching over the herd fit right in. He was huge, a warrior in a black threadbare hood and cloak that swayed in the dry wind, revealing armor beneath. With his shoulders back, eyes scanning, he had an air of bold, bitter hostility.
“Who’s the big guy with the cows?”
Mel canted her head in that direction. “They are cattle, not cows,” she corrected. “Immortal, vicious things, so of course my father loves them.”
Immortal cattle. Who would have thought? But then, I was in the realm of the gods--anything was possible. With their sable-black coats and enormous stature, they were fearsome things. “And him?” I gestured to the warrior.
“Menoetes. The herdsman. Brother to Atlas, Prometheus, and Epimetheus.”
The revelation caught me completely off guard. That would make him a god, and not just any god, a Titan. “What the hell is a Titan doing minding cattle?”
“He was struck down by the thunderbolt during the Olympian’s war with the Titans. My father pulled him out of Tartarus and made him herdsman to curb his bloated pride, anger, and disrespectful nature.” Her voice dripped with dislike. “Not that it’s helped any.”
“That’s a Titan?” Violet overheard, hurrying to catch up with us. “He’s huge.”
And scary.
As we passed, he turned his head in our direction. His body straightened a little, his hand pushing back the sides of his cloak to palm the handle of a sword strapped to his side. Apparently, he took his job very seriously. He had to be at least seven feet tall, and while the hood covered his face, I sensed his eyes burned with hatred.
That had to rub. Being on the losing side. Stuck with herding Hades’ cattle around for eternity.
“What’s he the god of anyway?” Violet asked, blatantly staring at him and totally at ease.
“Violent rage . . . and idiotic rashness,” she said dryly.
She digested the reply and didn’t seem to find it overly concerning. “We’re related then aren’t we? All the Titans are related. We could be cousins, me and him. Menoetes,” she tried his name on her tongue.
The herdsman jerked his head, just a small movement, but enough to let us know he’d heard from across the field.
Mel stiffened and increased her speed, ushering us along.
I grabbed Violet’s hand, but it was like pulling a distracted kid away from the candy store window.
We left the field of souls and cattle behind, the dusty black road leading us between craggy black rocks. For a long time, we traveled through the rocks, unable to see what lay beyond. Several times I heard scratching sounds and the light rain of loose rock, suggesting something was tracking us, something above us in the shadows.
“So, I’m curious,” I said to Mel, trying to distract myself from the constant tension. “The War of the Pantheons...”
“Yes?”
“Zeus died along with a few others on record. And, yet, no one knows what happened to any of the Underworld gods. Your father, for one.”
She dipped her head in answer, but didn’t elaborate.
“Some say he’s not even here in the Underworld anymore. Some say he died...”
A short burst of laughter escaped her. “Hmm. If true, it begs the question: why does the herdsman still herd? Why do I still craft nightmares and cultivate madness? Would these things continue to happen if Hades was . . . gone.”
Sounded plausible, but then it wasn’t really a straight answer.
No, something was off with Hades. There had been a lot written about the War of the Pantheons, of those who had sided with Athena and those who hadn’t--those who paid the ultimate price for choosing the losing side. But in all the Novem texts and all the lectures at Presby, there was very little known about the gods of the Underworld during that time. Had they taken sides? Remained neutral? Zeus and Hades had been brothers. Surely, there should have been some reaction, some involvement on his behalf, either in revenge for his brother’s killing or to take over Olympus and finally be free of the Underworld.
And, yet, none of those things had happened. It was like Hades had simply vanished from that part of history.
Mel wasn't very forthcoming, so I let the subject drop as we proceeded farther into the rocks, the road becoming winding.
Sweat and the dusty black grime from the barren land stuck to my skin. I was thirstier than I’d ever been. The only river I’d seen so far was on fire and just looking at it made my mouth dry as a cardboard box. Violet wasn’t faring any better. The only one who seemed unaffected was, of course, Mel.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, heart pounding in exertion, as we crested a steep rise and finally rid ourselves of the tall rocks. Unfortunately the sight that greeted us wasn't any better.
“The Fields of Punishment,” Mel told us, continuing on. “Best not to look too closely.”
It might be far from us, but there was no mistaking the blood and gore and the terrible things being done. Nor did the distance mute the cries of pain and terror, the pleading and begging and crying... “Come on, Vi,” I said quietly, making sure she was on the other side of me, unable to see what I saw.
Though I couldn’t stop her from hearing...
Finally, the sounds dulled and we came to a ridge where the view showed a great palace rising up from jagged black rock. The high walls gleamed like polished black marble. Woods filled with white poplars, gray and purple flowers, and cypress trees surrounded the palace, along with a large orchard. There was another river, this one with clear running water. Just the sight made me feel a deep, dry despair. It wound its way down from the mountainside, curving around the palace before becoming lost in the landscape.
The palace was too big, too imposing, too wicked-looking to be anything other than Hades’ personal domain.
Violet stumbled into me. I caught her by the arms, led her to a nearby rock, and sat her down. She was exhausted, her eyes glazed. “Hey kid, you still with me?”
A tired half-smile appeared through dry lips. “Are we there yet?”
“Not far now,” Mel answered from behind me. She actually appeared concerned as her ghostly train swung gently around, trying to get a look at what had caused its mistress such worry.
“Here.” A jug manifested in her hand. “It’s just water,” she said at my suspicion. “See for yourself.”
I took the jug and drank. Blessedly cold water slid down my arid throat. Dear God. It was heaven. “It’s good,” I told Violet, wiping my mouth and handing it over. As she sucked down the liquid, I thanked Mel.
Violet paused, took a breather, and then drank some more.
“You like her, don’t you?” I ask Mel in a low voice as we watched Violet drink.
“She’s . . . passable.”
“Here, Ari.”
I took the jug from Violet’s outstretched hand and sat down beside
her, chugging until my throat stung with cold and my heart pounded.
“Isn't there an easier way to do this?” I breathed when I was done. “Like trace or something?” At this point it was a rhetorical question because if there had been an easier way to get to Thanatos, I was sure Mel would have used it by now.
“Tracing is possible for me alone, but not with another. Once, perhaps I could,” she answered, “when there was more power to be had here, more suffering and darkness for me to draw upon. I’m only half darkness to begin with. But others, those who belong here, they could do so.”
“You don't belong here?” Violet asked, dumping the dirt from her shoes again.
“I am part of both worlds, light and darkness. I do not belong entirely to either.”
Violet thought about this for a minute, scratched her nose and then shoved her mask higher upon her head. The poor blue feathers were wilted and drooping in the heat. “Then you should come live with us in New 2. That's where people who don't fit in anywhere else belong. Right, Ari?”
I swallowed my surprise. “Sure.” Violet was right. New 2 was thee destination for misfits, the weird, the strange, the things that went bump in the night. Mel would fit right in. “Our door is open anytime,” I told her, startled that I meant it. Despite the nightmare and the bargain she’d made with us, I kept seeing goodness in her and didn’t feel she was inherently evil or malicious.
And I, like Violet, knew exactly how it felt to be an outsider.
Mel regarded us in bewilderment before spinning on her heel and walking down the road.
“What do you think that means?” Violet asked me.
“That she's not used to people being nice to her, much less offering her a place to crash.”
“You were the same way, remember?”
“Yeah. I remember. Come on.”
I wasn’t sure what to do with the empty jug, so I took it along in case Mel was in a generous mood to refill.
We settled into the hike once more, not talking and just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, being careful and climbing higher and higher until the mountainside leveled off into a narrow red plateau. On the other side of the plateau a sheer rock face rose several stories tall. I realized, as we drew closer that the red on the plateau wasn't made of rock or dirt, but of flowers.
“They're poppies,” Mel informed us as we approached. “And please don’t trip over the bodies.”
Violet and I froze at the edge of the field. I grabbed her hand tightly, hesitating.
“Oh for the love of Hera, they’re not dead. Just sleeping. This is the field of Hypnos, god of sleep.” She waved a hand toward the sheer black rock and the massive arch carved into it. “That is the Gate of Erebos.”
“They’re not going to wake up, are they?” Violet asked her.
“Most never do. They smell the poppies and they fall into a sleep that never ends. I wouldn’t breathe in too deeply. The river, there,” she said pointing to what looked more like a stream running from one side of the gate and through the far end of the field. “Don’t drink from it. It’s the River of Forgetfulness. It springs from the rock inside.”
Mel began moving through the poppies, looking regal and unearthly, the red flowers brushing her knees and fingertips. Violet and I went carefully. I kept my eyes down and prayed like hell I didn’t see a limb, a hand, a face...
Just the idea gave me the creeps, and the eeriness only amplified at the sounds of snoring nearby. Despite all that, tranquility came over me, making me want to linger, to touch the blood red flowers, to smell their black centers.
Whenever we slowed, Mel made sure to spur us on.
At the edge of the field of poppies, we climbed a gentle sloping path to the colossal gate. It had been carved straight into the rock, ornate and intimidating. “The gate will lead us to the Houses of Nyx.”
I yawned as we passed beneath the gate and entered a gigantic tunnel. Violet bumped into me and I dropped the jug. My limbs grew heavier than they’d been in the poppy field. My eyelids kept closing. A warm mist hovered over the floor and smelled sweet, making me wonder if it was laced with sleep-inducing herbs or opium from the poppies.
The lulling sound of the stream, which ran alongside the tunnel, was so beautiful and peaceful I wanted to crash right then and there.
“If you were both human, you'd be out there in the poppy field flat on your back,” Mel said, annoyed at our apparent weakness. “Just . . . try to stay focused.”
“I thought Death would live somewhere scarier,” I mumbled under my breath. “Not sleepy.”
Violet giggled.
“Hypnos is Thanatos’ twin brother,” Mel said, shaking her head.
Eventually, the cavernous tunnel gave way and we were outside again, looking at a land of complete darkness with fields of night flowers, jagged black rocks, and a dark sky filled with stars. Pin prinks of flames in the distance illuminated palaces and mansions built into the rock, tucked into ledges or situated on high on peaks.
“This is the most beautiful place in the world,” Violet whispered in utter reverence.
I had to admit it was an incredible sight. A beautiful, surreal night world.
“This way,” Mel said more quietly.
We crossed the plain to a winding path through the rocks that led us to a high ridge where an entire face of black rock had been carved into a palace façade so imposing; I imagined some great crew of nighttime giants had worked centuries to carve the structure. Thick columns, high rectangular entrance, scenes of battles, statues of winged warriors. Wide steps ran the entire length of the façade. Large black stone basins sat on the steps but burned no fires.
As we went up the steps I saw the basins were filled with water and they shimmered, reflecting the stars from above, or maybe those stars were gems similar to the diamond that had fallen into Mel’s hand.
Inside the palace, the air grew less humid, the way so dark I could barely see my hand in front of my face. I sensed there were rooms and halls, but all these we passed as we headed toward a pinprick of gray light up ahead.
The light led us into an enormous, hollow hall. The walls were lined with colossal statues of winged gods and goddesses, fearsome, strong, and chilling. Mel never stopped moving and that was probably a good thing seeing as I felt eyes all around us.
We approached a raised dais, two steps higher than the main floor. There was a large black throne. No skulls or bones as one would expect for a god of death.
Mel stopped, picked up her silver staff and hit it on the floor. The loud vibration echoed through the room and rattled my teeth.
The sleepiness from earlier had completely gone, leaving me alert and tense with anticipation. My pulse hammered and my hold on Violet's hand tightened as she edged closer to me.
No matter what I saw, I had to keep my act together and my chin up.
In order for me to play in any god’s sand box, I had to go in with the mantra that I was nobody’s bitch. I could show fear, panic, my awesome ability to quake in my boots like no other, but if showed an ounce of subservience, I might as well pack up my shit and go home; they wouldn’t give me the time of day.
And Thanatos was no different.
Black basins on each edge of the dais flared to life, but not with flame. They lit with the same spectral gray light Mel had used in the atrium.
From the end of the dais, a mist gathered. I held my breath as the mist grew bigger and darker.
My heart skipped. For the briefest second the mist formed into something massive and black, winged and deadly, unmerciful, stark, and utterly terrifying.
And then he emerged. Solid, tall, and even more striking here on his own turf than when I’d seen him in Olympus.
Thanatos.
“Me-lin-o-way,” his deep voice enunciated each syllable in Mel’s name in an ominous melody that reverberated through the room.
Thanatos inspired awe and respect, his presence and looks a strange combination that enthralled
and horrified. With stark black hair that swept to his shoulders and skin that held notes of gray in the hollows of high cheekbones, he was a supreme predator with a beautiful face and an aura of total dominion. He wore all black--an un-tucked button down shirt rolled to his forearms, jeans, and shit-kicking boots.
Mel gave him a deep nod before stepping aside.
I suddenly felt like a bull’s eye under his crushing gaze. His eyes were flat and black, pitiless and cold, they spoke of nothingness, a great void of endless night, save for the gray starburst around his pupils, a beacon in a hopeless sky.
His examination shifted from me to Violet. He lingered there a while before sitting, his big body sliding casually onto the seat of his throne. Leaning to one side, resting his elbow on the arm, he propped his jaw against his fingers in a casual, thoughtful pose. But there was nothing casual about Thanatos. He was full of pent-up energy, primal and raw and restless.
He tapped his jaw with his finger as he studied us intently, eyes glittering, calculating.
His finger stopped tapping.
“Impressive.”
TWENTY
LAMIA HAD SUCKED HIM so dry, he couldn’t recover. He only knew this fact because during a moment of consciousness, he’d been examined and heard the diagnosis. With great relief, he was brought down from the wall, collapsing into the arms of two burly vampires, and taken from the chamber.
His knees scrapped across the cold, stone floor as he was dragged down the hall by his armpits. His eyelids were heavy. It took everything he had to keep them open. If they closed, he’d lose consciousness again and miss the small details that would help him build a mental map of the place and, eventually, aid in his escape.
The deep ring of a bell resonated through the corridor. It was muted, coming from somewhere overhead, from the monastery, the advisor had said.
There was a way out. Three more times the bell rang and it sounded like heaven, like hope.
His view of the rock tunnel began to waver. He swallowed. If things started spinning, he was done for. He counted the doors they’d passed, noted the way a handle was different on one, the way a sconce on the wall was tilted near another.