Love or Fate (2 page)

He had to.

B
ack
in Athens, Georgia, Apollo—disguised as the mortal Dylan from Denver—wandered aimlessly through the streets, wondering what to do next. He found himself at the statue of Athena where he and Thalia had enjoyed some serious flirting while plotting the movie they’d done for class. The sight of the statue practically caused Apollo to hyperventilate. He knew the girls were in danger; he knew Hera had to have come for them. Apollo had seen the telltale signs of her presence when he’d gone into their empty house. He knew she must have sent them to Hades.

“But Zeus would at least try and stop it, wouldn’t he?” Apollo asked no one in particular, and no one answered. Some odd-looking fellow with long
greasy hair was walking by and did look curiously at Apollo’s football uniform, part of his Dylan disguise. But he kept moving, maybe even faster than before.

Apollo sat for a moment at Athena’s feet and racked his brain. He needed a way to get into Hades. It would be no small feat. Living, breathing people, even gods, rarely entered Hades and returned to the world of the living again. And without his powers, which Zeus had taken away from him before he’d come to earth, Apollo wasn’t even sure how to return to the godly world at all—much less get to the underworld.

Worst of all, he had no time to waste figuring it out. If a god or goddess stayed in Hades for more than a full day and night, they could not, would not get out, no matter who their father was,
ever.

And this was why he was panicking now. Did the girls even know this? Thalia had done a lot of hooky playing in her younger days. Had she missed class that day? Was she frightened? The thought made him swell with anger at Hera and those three witches, Alek, Meg, and Tizzie. He had allowed them to fool even him, a great and once powerful god, when Meg posed as Thalia and tricked him into deserting the girls when they needed him most. Now look at him. Practically mortal and stuck
in the future. A vein in his forehead was throbbing.

Then Apollo had a thought. He knew of a spell, a magic spell that could be cast by witches back in ancient Athens. It was a communication spell. He didn’t need godly powers per se to do it. Just regular old witch magic. Perhaps he could use the spell to talk to someone back home and then they could help him get into Hades. It was worth a try, for he had nothing else to go on. He had no powers of his own, nowhere to stay, knew no one on earth, really. Except Thalia’s friend Claire, who’d already helped him more than once where Thalia was concerned. And he would need her help again if this spell was to work.

So he hotfooted it over to Claire’s house with this in mind. Three pounds of his fist against her oversized door later, she appeared.

“Dylan! Did you find Thalia? Are they back?” asked Claire without even a hello. She looked happy to see him but a little worried.

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t seen her. I believe, well, I know that her mother, or rather her stepmother, has summoned them, um, home.”

“What? No! Back to Europe? Without a goodbye?” Claire’s big brown eyes got even bigger. “What happened? You said they were in danger! Has something bad happened to Thalia?”

“No, no, she’s fine. But you know Thalia, always on the move, not good with the good-byes,” Apollo said nervously. He couldn’t possibly explain what had really happened. As far as Claire knew, Thalia, Era, and Polly were exchange students from Europe, not goddesses from the heavens. “Anyway, um, I’ve come for a favor.”

“Wait a minute. Thalia’s really gone?” Claire looked devastated.

“Well, she may be back,” Apollo said unconvincingly. But it was just to cheer Claire up. If he did get Thalia out of Hades (and that was a big
if
), he knew he’d never allow her to be banished again, to here or anywhere else. “So, my favor.”

“Another favor? How can you tell me this kind of news and then ask for a favor just like that? You haven’t even thanked me for the last favor—the car, remember? And—”

“Yes, thank you, Claire, thank you so much, um, that was so kind of you, but that didn’t work. So now I need another favor.”

“Jeez Louise. Are people this rude in Denver? And you know, while we’re on the subject of your quirks, it’s also pretty darn weird that you’re still wearing that ridiculous uniform. I like freaks, but you’re beyond, way beyond.”

Apollo just stood in front of Claire humbly,
waiting his turn to speak. But she didn’t give it to him. “I don’t care if Thalia does—for some crazy reason—like you.
I’m
done with you,” and with that Claire tried to shut the door.
Tried.
Because Apollo stuck his big old football cleat in the way, stopping the door several inches shy of closing.

“Please, Claire, this favor is really much smaller. It will only take a moment, and it won’t involve any of your relatives or their earthly possessions.”

“What?” she said abruptly.

“A strand of your hair. I need a strand of your hair. No, wait!” This time Apollo’s arm stopped the door from slamming. And it hurt. He let out a small yelp but tried to contain himself. Next time, he thought, he should stick his head in the door. At least it would be protected by his helmet. “It may sound weird, but it’s really important.”

“Really—so what’s it for?” Claire asked suspiciously.

“Um, well, you see…” Apollo had walked the whole way from the Athena statue and hadn’t come up with a reasonable-sounding answer to this question. All he had was a very unreasonable one.

“My collection,” he blurted. “Yes, my collection. Of strands of beautiful girls’ hair. From around the world.”

“CREEP!” yelled Claire. “Cretin!” And with that she attempted to slam the door a third time. And Apollo, thanks to that forethought about the helmet,
managed to shove his head into the doorway, stopping the action once again. This time Claire used all her strength to shut him out. She pushed with both hands, her feet firmly planted on the ground. He reached up, grabbed her by the hair, and pulled, all the while screaming a very genuine, “Sooorryyyyy!” He then backed up, removed his head from the doorway, and ran. It was two and a half blocks later before he looked down to see if he had gotten what he came for.

Yep. Entwined among his fingers were four strands of mortal hair.

He walked, very seriously, over to the park, and sat under a tree. Now for the spell. He tried desperately to recall how it went, but somehow actually doing it turned out to be a lot harder than just thinking about doing it. He wrapped Claire’s hair tightly around his right index finger, blew on it three times, and then stuck it in his ear. He called out, “Hello? Anyone there?”

But nothing.

He quickly stuck his finger in the other ear. “Hello?” Nothing. He unwrapped the hair and rewrapped it around his left index finger and stuck it in his ear. “Hello?” he now yelled frantically. In the other ear. On another finger. Back in his ears. And still nothing.

Apollo slumped against the tree. He looked at the hair, now broken and stuck to his sweaty fingers. It was pink. Hot pink. That couldn’t be natural, could it? He hadn’t thought about the fact that Claire’s hair was always a new, bright, and unnatural shade. He wondered if that was messing up the spell.

Yes, it had to be that, he thought. He wondered if he should go back to Claire’s and ask for her aunt’s or grandmother’s or mother’s hair. But he had no time to waste. And he doubted that request would go over well. He leapt up with renewed energy and looked around.

That’s when he saw her. A woman with long, thick, flowing tresses was walking through the park with her dog. She had a lot of hair. She wouldn’t miss a few strands, he thought. And then he really didn’t think. He ran. Up behind her, and grabbed a small handful, and then kept running. She let out a yowl, and the tiny white dog barked a terrible high-pitched “yap.”

Apollo took off like the wind.

A
fter
what seemed like hours, the creaky old boat finally docked at the edge of what looked like an overgrown cavern. It was dark and it dripped with dark green gunk and it smelled faintly of cheese. Yes, cheese. That smelly old kind that gets all blue. Only it was like there were huge mounds of it nearby. It was
that
smelly.

Charo motioned for us to get out of the boat. He didn’t say anything at all.

“Where are we supposed to go?” I asked.

He just moved his head slowly toward an eerie light that glowed from somewhere deep inside the tunnel.

“Yes, but where is…” and I moved
my
head toward that same light.

“Miss Thalia, you are too full of questions. You may leave my boat now.”

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna,” I said. I had absolutely no interest in abandoning old man Charo, as creepy as he was, for whatever waited at the end of that tunnel. But before we could have a face-off, Polly was dragging me out of the boat by the sleeve of my orange sweatshirt.

As soon as our feet hit the ground, there was a strange zapping sound. Suddenly my wrist felt heavy. I looked down to see a tiny hourglass, like a watch, fastened to a strap around my wrist. Polly and Era had identical ones on
their
wrists.

“A full day and a full night,” Charo then repeated. And we realized what these strange timepieces were for. They were to show us our doom. To rub it in our faces. So we knew that after twenty-four hours not even Daddy would be able to rescue us from this place.

“Let’s just get on with this,” Polly said.

“What is
this
?” whined Era.

“You mean
where
is this,” I corrected her.

“I dare say we’ll find out soon enough,” said Polly, leading us toward the light. I looked over my shoulder to see Charo already floating away behind us.

We walked into the depths of the cavern, against my wishes, away from the moaning river and toward
the cheese smell, toward the light. Bits of gunk dripped all around us as we huddled together, making our way farther and farther inward. The cave looked like it would go on forever. But it was only a few steps later that, amazingly, we found ourselves completely through the cavern and out on the other side. Immediately I wished we hadn’t.

What I noticed first was the wind. It was whipping around us, and it was absolutely freezing. But that was nothing compared to the gates. They were tall and thick, easily eight stories high, and made of black steel with sharp points sticking all about, and they were hanging open…as if waiting for us to walk right in.

And that’s what we did. It was like an invisible hand was pulling us along, like we couldn’t turn around if we tried. Anyway, if we did, where would we run to? We had nowhere to go.

As we walked, I took in the steel goblins and winged monsters that lined the posts on either side of us. The bars of the gates were wrapped in oversized metal chains that made a deep noise as they clinked together slowly in the wind.

I looked as far up as I could and made out four giant letters on the top of one side. They spelled
Tart.
“Tart,” I read out loud.

“Tart?” asked Era, her eyes widening in surprise.
A hopeful smile played at the corners of her lips. “Well, I do love tarts.”

Screech!

We leaped out of the way just as the gate swung past us, spinning around to watch the two sides come together with a
clunk
behind us.

“No!” we screeched all at once. Polly actually grabbed onto the bars. Through them we could see that the cave we’d just come through was gone. Another, wider river, more like an ocean, stood in its place. One that clearly wasn’t meant to be crossed. And there, somewhere out in the middle, was an island. A strange black blob was swimming above it.

“Hey, isn’t that weir—”

“No,” Polly interrupted. She had her head thrown back, and she was looking up at the sky; her face was frozen. She backed up a few paces as Era and I followed her gaze.

Towering above us, where the two halves of the gate had joined together, were the four letters we’d just seen, now joined with another four. The letters spelled one hideous word.

The only one who said it aloud was Era. “
Tart. Arus.
Oh.”

“Okay. You know, I think we could fit in between those posts over there. Let’s make a run for it.”

“To where? Where shall we run to?” cried Polly. “We have no boat. We have no map. There’s no longer any cavern, so we can’t even go back the way we came. Oh, we’re doomed!”

I didn’t give an answer. I didn’t have one, and I didn’t have time. Because at that moment, as if things could get any worse, a soul-shaking growl filled the air, and the scariest, beastliest animal came charging at us out of nowhere. It snarled and it barked and it slobbered a green gook. It leaped toward us, herding us against the fence, under the giant
U.
It had three heads. Three humongous evil dog heads!

“Your powers! Use your powers!” I said, trying to do the same. But like before, my powers wouldn’t work.

Era was at my feet, her eyes closed tight. She was gripping my pant leg so fiercely, it was beginning to rip. She chanted a spell, the one for changing dogs into alligators (which I guess was better than nothing), but it was no use. Same with Polly. We didn’t have our powers.

Dust was swirling around us; the wind was whistling an ugly off-key tune. I couldn’t stop shivering. And the three-headed dog-beast before us was drooling. “This can’t be our fate, this can’t be our fate,” I kept saying over and over again. We
hadn’t come this far through earth, and high school, and everything else only to become doggy dinner. Where was Daddy?

The thing, the three-headed thing, had three sets of fangs, and each set looked sharper than the next. Its eyes were bright red like white-hot fire pokers. It lumbered toward us.

I closed my own eyes tight and thought about how much I loved my sisters and how I really wasn’t always so nice and how if I survived this, I should, no, I
would
be a better person. I thought about Apollo’s sweet smile and his funny laugh and about all our childhood adventures. And although it was probably wrong, I thought about that silly mortal Dylan and that goofy uniform he wore and his sparkling eyes.

And then, just like that, I realized the growling had stopped. It had been replaced by a wet, panting sound. Slowly I opened my eyes. Era was still clinging to my pants. But Polly…Polly was—was—was…
petting it.

“His name is Cerberus,” she said. “It says so here on his tags.” She was rattling these giant metal charms under his middle chin. The beast seemed to be almost smiling.

“What? I don’t care what its name is,” I said. “I’m just glad it’s not going to devour us. It’s not
going to devour us, right?” I ventured a hopeful look in Polly’s direction.

“No, silly. He never was. He’s just a little lonely.” Polly was nuzzling him under two of his chins. “They put him here all alone—I suppose to guard these gates so that no one escapes. The poor thing doesn’t have any company. He doesn’t get any love; I can see it in his eyes.”

“Well, no wonder. I’d say he hasn’t had a bath in decades,” said Era as she picked herself off the ground and wrinkled her nose. She was one to talk. That Harpy on the boat had picked and teased her wild hair something awful. Her camisole was ripped and muddy, her face covered in dust. I suspected I looked only a touch better.

Era took a few steps toward “Cerberus” and tentatively rubbed him behind one of his six giant ears. His single tail, which looked far more like a dragon’s than a puppy’s, wagged frantically. It was so large and powerful, it kicked up another dust storm, which whirled around us, getting thicker and thicker. I could no longer see my sisters or Cerberus, even—the air was too dark with dirt.

And then the wind just died in an instant and everything fell to the ground, calm and still. The dust began to clear. And when it did, I saw three figures in front of us. Three slender figures, their
hands on their hips, their chins held high. And I smelled a scent worse than the stinky cheese cavern. It was the scent of evil.

It was Alek, Tizzie, and Meg. It was the Furies.

They started to laugh that piercing evil laugh, the one they do in unison, the one that could puncture a dog’s eardrum. Sure enough, Cerberus went howling into a corner near the gates, his thunderous spiny tail between his legs.

Welcome, oh, welcome to our humble abode.

This is of course Tartarus, as the gates have told.

We’re delighted and gleeful to now take you in.

In fact, we’re so happy, let’s start the violin.

A violin appeared out of nowhere, hanging effortlessly in the air. The bow slammed across the strings, pulling and yanking them every which way, causing a wrenching, screeching noise. Polly, Era, and I covered our ears, but it was no use; the “music” only got louder. It was as if the hideous noise was playing inside our heads.

This is your home for the rest of eternity.

Say farewell to your days of fun and modernity.

You will be our slaves, you’re flat out of luck.

There is no one to help you! You’re eternally stuck!

The three evil ones were dressed head to toe in black. They looked like their old selves, the girls we’d known back home on Olympus. They were no longer sheathed in the modern mortal costumes of the Backroom Betties, or the band Beautiful Omen, or the colonial workers we had met on our disastrous road trip. The only modern touches that remained were three black berets perched perfectly atop their wild heads of hair. I don’t think I had ever seen them look so happy. I don’t think they had ever seen me look so afraid.

You’ll be quite amazed at how mean we can be,

And your daddy is not here to shelter you three.

You’re alone, you’re washed up, you’re totally done for!

We don’t think you can imagine the horrors in store.

Now follow us; don’t lollygag or you’ll pay.

It’s off to your new home, where you always will stay.

With these last words and a wave of their hands, they summoned us, deep into the dark depths of the one and only Tartarus.