Keepers of the Labyrinth (12 page)

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Lil was blinded by white shorts and shirts.

“Oh, look, Team D. I noticed you were absent at lunch today,” Vivi said as she went by. “We had wanted to congratulate you on your near win. Good effort.” She stood straight up and smiled at Lil with her stunningly white teeth. “Not good enough, of course. But don't worry: even if you don't win the scholarship, maybe there are some charities or something that could help your type out. Maybe we could put up a collection.”

Lil bristled, lurching forward.

“We'll see you later,” Kat said. “Good job. You're really great. Congratulations.” She pushed Lil past them, and a moment later they ducked back into the office and headed into the cool of the dining hall.

“What did you hear?” Charlie said as they rounded the corner.

Lil turned toward the others. “Let's eat dinner fast and meet in the dormitory. We need to discuss this. In private.”

17

C
harlie flung her balcony door open and pulled a chair out for Lil. “Sit down. You look like you're going to be sick.”

Lil collapsed into the seat. “I don't know what to think,” she said, her foot accidentally upending a pile of books.

Charlie reached down and righted the stack, then went over to her desk. She opened the drawer and drew out a squat bottle of ink and a large green pen with gold lettering on it.

“What are you doing?” Lil asked.

“I'm refilling my fountain pen,” Charlie said as she unscrewed the top of the pen and submerged the writing end in a glass of water. The water ran blue as she squeezed the top. Then she deftly wiped the end with a handkerchief and submerged it into the bottle of ink.

Sydney bowled through the door with the roll of papers she'd had that morning, and Kat appeared with her pitcher of tea and a ball of yarn.

“Are you knitting?” Charlie said, tightening the casing back on the pen.

“It helps me think,” Kat said, setting the pitcher down.

They each took a seat. Kat unraveled some yarn from her ball. Sydney flattened her diagrams out in front of her, and Charlie opened her notebook as though she were taking dictation.

Lil leaned forward, pulling her picture from her pocket. She unfolded it and glanced at her mother's smiling face.

“She looks just like you,” Charlie said.

“Looked,” Lil said. “Past tense.”

Sydney gulped, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “Sorry,” she said quietly.

Kat paused with the yarn extended over her left hand. “How did she die?”

Lil flapped the photograph. She hated talking about it. Really hated it. Hated thinking about it, reliving it and reseeing it. But it was so clear to her, from start to finish, an unstoppable movie that played over and over and over again in her mind.

• • •

Lil knew the smell of lentil soup at midnight. It had been a regular routine at her house, just as some families had Sunday breakfast, or went to church or met for ice cream on Friday nights. In Lil's house, Mom made lentil soup at midnight. Smelling the garlic and thyme, the caramelizing onions and rosemary, Lil would rise from her bed, pulling Binky, her brown bear, from the pillow, and go to the kitchen. Mom always stood on the opposite side of the counter, knife blade moving quickly across carrots and celery, chopping them into tiny pieces.

“Are you okay?” Lil had asked over and over as she sat down on a stool on the opposite side. “Mom, are you okay?”

And Mom's eyes would flit to Lil, and over to the cedar cabinet that held a smiling picture of her dressed in her air force attire and then over to the pot. Sometimes, her hand would find its way to her necklace. Always to the labrys, and then she would flip it to the alternate side. The side that coiled and spiraled. She would run her thumb along the pictographs, pressing the shapes with her fingertips. And then, as if the aroma of garlic and onions and the feel of a favorite piece of jewelry could heal, her eyes would clear. “I'll be okay,” she'd say. Twisting a tomato from its stem, she would roll it onto the cutting board.

“Nightmares?” Lil asked.

Mom's eyebrows furrowed. “I suppose so,” she said. Lil had wondered how you could suppose you had had a nightmare. She always remembered hers very vividly.

“And you,
bouboukí
?” Mom would say as she pulled a piece of bread from a loaf. She would press it into the bottom of the hot pot. When it came back out, it glistened with oil and garlic and herbs, and she would hand it over the counter. “What are you doing up in the quiet hours?”

Lil would accept the bread, taking a bite of the midnight snack.

“Not tired,” she would lie. But once her belly was full, Lil would sit down on the little bench near the cedar cabinet and fall softly to sleep, only to wake up as she was being carried to her room. Lil's eyes would flash open, watching Mom's necklace bounce as Mom climbed the stairs.

“Good night,
bouboukí,
” Mom would say, setting her into her bed.
“
Kalinixta.”

“Night night,” Lil would answer as she sank back into dreams.

But the week of the tragedy had been different. The week of the tragedy, Mom seemed flustered. Up at odd hours. At ten, and two, and four and six. And Lil had slept through most of it, unable to acclimate to the new schedule.

But on that day, it wasn't until after midnight that Lil rolled out of bed. That Dad had met her in the hallway, worry in his eyes. They had raced down the stairs.

“Stay here,” Dad had said as they reached the lower landing.

Lil had peered across the room from the banister. The kitchen was empty. Garlic skins were littered on the tiles leading toward Mom's study. The door was half open. And Lil knew something was wrong. Not because she could see beyond the door. Not because of Dad's strangled cry, but because the pot on the stovetop was sending up a steady signal of black smoke.

It wasn't like Mom to let the soup burn.

• • •

“The police said it was suicide,” Lil said. “No questions asked.” She shook her head.

“And she had this necklace?” Charlie said, scribbling in her notebook.

Sydney extended her hand for the picture. Lil passed it over to her. “And she knew Bente,” Sydney said, circling Bente's picture on her own chart.

“Before we arrived on the rock,” Kat said, her knitting needles clicking, “you were talking to her. Did she give any indication of knowing what happened to your mom?”

“That's just it,” Lil said, pulling her feet up onto the chair. “She said it wasn't like my mom to commit suicide.” She paused. “My mom had this saying. She said it was an old Cretan adage.
Min zeis apl
os. Zeis tolmira.
‘Do not just live. Live boldly.' Bente must have known this, because she said it to me before I started climbing the rock wall.”

“That's weird,” Sydney said.

Lil continued. “But when we were sitting out in the plateau garden, I heard Athenia and Bente talking. Athenia asked her . . . I think Athenia asked Bente if she had told me how my mom died.”

“Do you remember her exact words?” Charlie said.

Lil thought for a moment. It had all happened so fast. They weren't talking loud enough. She shook her head. “Not exactly. But they did talk about that key.” She snapped her fingers. “That's why they were talking about me. I think Bente was supposed to leave it somewhere up there near the labrys rock. She said she couldn't because I was there.”

“That's interesting,” Sydney said. She drew a new circle on her diagram. “What was your mom's name?”

“Helene,” Lil said, watching Sydney scratch her name into the new circle. “I just wonder how Bente knows. Or why it would be a secret.”

“Well, that's just it,” Charlie said, tapping her fountain pen on her paper. “We have multiple secrets here. We have a secret key, a secret hiding place.”

“A secret group,” Kat said, swinging her yarn around a needle. “The Zephylites.”

“And a secret death,” Sydney said.

A knock came at the door and the girls jumped into motion. Sydney piled her papers and flipped them over. Charlie closed her book and slid her special fountain pen into the desk drawer. Kat knitted more frantically. Lil pocketed her picture, reached the door in two strides and swung the top half open. Bente. Her name died on Lil's tongue. Had she heard? Before she could stammer out an excuse, Bente held up a tray.

“I noticed you left the dining hall in a hurry. Before sweets.”

Lil glanced at the tray. Several spoons lay across it. Some with what looked like honey-covered walnuts, sugar-glazed strawberries, cherries and what was it? Lil examined the glistening orange wrap held together with a toothpick. A citrusy aroma wafted toward her. Candied orange peel?

“You don't ever want to miss Aestos' spoon sweets. I said I would deliver them and check on you. Is everything all right?”

“Fine, uh, thank you,” Lil said, accepting the offering over the door.

“We're just strategizing for tomorrow,” Sydney said. “Renewable energy challenge in the morning.”

Bente nodded. “Actually, you missed the guidelines of the challenge. Athenia was wondering where you were, but I defended you, explaining that I made you run back from the ropes course today. I assumed you were overtired.” She pulled an envelope from her pocket. “Here are the details. Breakfast is at six o'clock. I will meet you there.”

“Thank you. Thanks again,” Lil said, accepting the envelope. Bente moved back toward the stairwell. Then she stopped and turned.

“Lastly, it was mentioned at dinner that some students were out of bed last night.”

Lil's heart did an upswing to her throat, and she struggled to maintain a neutral expression.

“Against the rules,” Sydney said from behind her. “They should probably be sanctioned.”

“We are making a manor-wide announcement that curfew is for your safety.” She paused and stared at Lil. “I cannot stress this enough. When in Melios Manor, you are in our care. And the rules are in place for a reason.”

Lil gulped and nodded. Then without mention of anything more, Bente turned and made her way down the hall. Lil waited until she saw Bente round the corner to the stairwell before she pressed the door closed. There was an audible exhale.

“Okay, she definitely knows we know something,” Lil said.

Sydney took the envelope from Lil's hand and pulled the note card from it. “Well, actually, the simple fact of the matter is that we know nothing. We have no conclusions.” She looked at the guidelines for the renewable energy project. “Oh, micro-hydro, should have known.”

“Listen,” Charlie said, pulling the note card from Sydney's hands. “We don't know anything now, but we need to figure out more. We have to go back to the library.”

Lil nodded. “Last night, they made the rounds at ten thirty. Maybe we wait a little longer.”

“I am not disobeying the rules again. If we get caught, there's too much to lose,” Sydney said, yanking the note card and guidelines back. She picked up her pile of papers and lined up the edges.

Lil looked to Kat and Charlie. They would go—she knew that they would go. Just like the night before. “Well.” Lil looked down at her watch. It was nearly nine forty-five already. “If you don't want to go, you don't have to,” she said, looking up at Sydney, “but we have time to convince you otherwise.”

Lil looked toward the western horizon and watched the leaves flip over, revealing their soft bellies in the dying light. A massive cloud muted the greenery, and as if grabbing the warmth from the air with its presence, a breeze blew in, riffling the papers in Sydney's hand. Cold. Inordinately icy, Lil thought. Charlie grabbed a match and laid it to a twig in the preset fireplace as outside their dormitory window, rain set to its eternal work, whittling away at wood and stone.

18

F
og descended on Melia Mountain like a noose dropped from heaven's gallows. Horatio lifted his face to the sky, feeling its cool hand over his skin.

“Brother. Sister. This is what we've been waiting for.”

He saw the light flash across the faces of his younger siblings as another shudder of lightning crackled through the night. He felt the electricity in the air. Everything was coming together. “This is what we're meant to do. And our rewards will be everlasting.”

Felice grasped her pendant, hidden under her shirt, and Horatio watched the rain run over her fingers.

“Do we know where to find Bente? So that we might force the location of the key from her?” she asked.

Horatio smiled and shook his head. She still had so much to learn, his little sister. “No need to find the Protector. She will find us. She must already know we're on our way.” He paused, weighing the machete in his hand. “I suspect she is already afraid.”

“You think she's afraid?” Byron laughed. “Has any Protector ever been afraid?”

“Let me handle her,” Horatio said. “Felice, secure the key. Byron, you keep a good look out. And make it quiet. We don't want any of the others knowing of our arrival.”

“Yes, sir,” Byron said.

“If one of us should fall, the others must carry on as we have vowed.”

“Without fear,” Felice said.

Lightning crackled. Bony arms of trees and jagged rock protruded from the shadows. Horatio could feel his god's presence all around. In the darkness, in the electricity in the air, in his skin. “We are also protected, and by something far greater than a mortal with a few combat skills,” Horatio said. “There is nothing to fear.”

He fell to his knee, genuflecting here on the mountain where Zeus had lived and died. Felice and Byron joined him. He put a hand on each of their necks for one final blessing.

“For the great father. And for our mother, who made our dreams bigger than hers. We are the messengers, and we will see our obligations through,” Horatio added.

“Ma ton patera
dia, tha ginei,”
Felice said.

They made the sign of the great father, marking a jagged line from right shoulder to left rib, then tapped their hearts twice. They pulled their pendants from the folds in their shirts, kissed them hard and held them to the lightning-splintered sky.