Love or Fate Page 6

  “Ahhh!” One had just bitten his left ear.

  “Owww!” Another scratched at his cheek.

  Apollo was ready to shift into panic mode. The creatures surrounded him so thickly that he could no longer see the way out. They continued their horrible squawking.

  Then it came to him. It was worth a try.

  “Foul tasting I am. Dirty and grimy, too.” Apollo started to mumble under his breath. “Too skinny, no meat on those bones.”

  “Foul tasting, squawk, skinny, squawk,” his attackers mimicked.

  “Sour and bitter, rancid and vile.”

  “Sour, squawk, bitter, squawk.”

  “Rancid, squawk, vile, squawk.”

  Sure enough, the creatures began to back away as if hypnotized. The excitement in the air seemed to evaporate. A few of the animals even returned to their perches, looking bored.

  Apollo took the opportunity to make a run for it. He bolted, just forged ahead in a straight line. He heard the violence of hundreds of wings flapping behind him, but he didn’t pay any heed; he just kept mumbling and running, running and mumbling.

  He didn’t slow down, even when he’d gotten far out of range. The cave took a sharp right, then a hard left, and then, suddenly, there was light up ahead. He ran toward it, knowing he was near. Now that the wind was gone, he could smell the evil breath of the Furies festering in the air.

  He came to a roaring halt in front of three doors. Light streamed from behind them. Beside the one on the right was a huge pile of what looked like dirty laundry. What was that doing there? Just as Apollo took a step closer to investigate, he heard footsteps coming toward him. Heavy footsteps that could easily belong to the Furies.

  Apollo had no time to do anything but jump into the pile of clothes. He covered himself in the stinky fabrics and held his breath, wondering what to do next.

  ELEVEN

  At least the door to our prison cell was open. Unfortunately, it was now atop Tizzie the toad. I hated Tizzie with every fiber of my being, but I’d never wanted her dead! I wouldn’t even kill a spider. And now I was a real murderer.

  My sisters and I all looked at each other in total despair. I didn’t think I was crying until I felt the tears streaming down my face. But I had to pull myself together. We had to get out of here.

  Era was not happy about having to get back into her dirty clothes after her quick dip in the bubbly lavender bath, but she had no choice. We tried to blink her clean clothes, we tried to conjure up clean clothes for all of us, but all we came up with was a single tube sock and a linty moth-ridden sweater.

  Polly still didn’t want to risk escape, especially since our powers were so obviously unstable, but I finally just grabbed her arm and pulled. Era stumbled behind us.

  As the three of us ran up the stairs, then through the replica of our old home, I tried desperately not to look around. I didn’t want to be distracted by the memories, both sad and happy. The drapes. The candles. The piano. It was so bittersweet.

  We got out quickly through the door we’d used to come in, and once we were outside, we stopped for a moment to catch our breath and get our bearings. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see the doorway through which we’d entered disappear. Now we had no choice but to keep going.

  We were in a room surrounded by doors. Off to the right of us was a dank, dark passageway that looked like it led nowhere. In front of us were three other doors that looked more promising. Yes, the way out had to be one of these. But which one? I couldn’t think clearly; all I could think about was Tizzie and what I’d done to her. Until Polly gasped, grabbing my attention as she pointed to a corner of the room, her eyes filled with fright.

  Then her eyelids fluttered closed and she fainted.

  My eyes followed the direction in which Polly had pointed—and there, poking out from underneath a pile of dirty Fury clothes that were surely waiting for us to wash them, was a single sneaker, connected to a real live foot. Somebody was hiding in that pile, watching us. I didn’t want to stick around to find out who.

  “Get up, Polly! Era, pick her up!” I whispered.

  Era, also noticing the foot, looked at me and began to cry. Polly started to come to.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Era sobbed, pulling me and a half-standing Polly toward the middle door.

  “No, I think it’s this way,” muttered Polly, regaining her feet and her senses and pointing to the left.

  “Whoa, you’re both wrong; it’s this way,” and I grabbed Polly by her filthy sleeve. It was damp, just like mine.

  “No, it’s not,” Era said. “I paid attention on the way in. Really, it must be this way?” But she didn’t look so sure.

  “I’m going this way. You two can do what you want,” I said as I kept moving in the right direction. Polly and Era waited for a second or so, threw another glance in the direction of the shoe, which, by some stroke of luck, hadn’t moved to reveal its wearer, and then followed me.

  We ran and ran and ran until we came to a gate. A locked gate. A locked gate I had never seen before. “Argh!” I let out a scream of frustration when I realized things looked unfamiliar. I cast a glance at my timepiece—another hour gone.

  “Shhh,” said Polly. “We have to be quiet. Oh, who am I kidding—this will never work!”

  “I guess I went the wrong way,” I said sheepishly. “Let’s turn around.”

  “Wait, I’ll let you through.” It was a deep voice. It was coming from the top of the gate. We looked up but saw only shadows.

  “Did somebody up there just say something?” I asked.

  “Yes. I said I’d let you through,” came the reply from the darkness.

  “Okay, then, let us through.”

  “First you must answer my riddle.” I couldn’t tell for sure, but the voice sounded like it was smiling.

  “A riddle? What kind of riddle?” I asked.

  Polly tugged on my sleeve. “Let’s just run,” she whispered. “It could be a trap. A Fury trap.”

  I ignored her and asked again, “What kind of riddle?”

  “History!” said the voice.

  “Oh, I stink at history,” I said. “Polly, you’re right, I think we should—”

  “Wait, wait!” the voice cooed softly. “On second thought, how about a question regarding gossip?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “The question, it’s about gossip. Will you stay and take my challenge? It will be so much fun.”

  “Fun?” I couldn’t imagine anything being fun right now. But if it got us through the gate…“Um, okay, I’m good at gossip. But what happens if we get it wrong?”

  The voice in the darkness gave out a laugh. “Then it’s back to your room.”

  “How did you know?…”

  Polly nudged me, panic in her eyes. “It’s a trick,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”

  I pulled away from her. “Um, can you show yourself first?” I asked.

  “Thalia, let’s just go,” said Polly.

  “I think I know the way. It was back there,” said Era under her breath.

  “No, I know the way—let’s go my way,” said Polly even more quietly.

  “Show yourself,” I said again.

  Down swooped a scraggly-looking bird, like an old condor or eagle. But it had pointy ears, big pointy ears. And its nails, or claws, were at least six inches long and curled away from its body. As it landed before us, I could see that it looked like it had been picked over by a few hungry bugs. It would have been quite a scary creature if it hadn’t stood only a foot and a half high.

  I hoped against hope this wasn’t a Fury in disguise. Anyway, if it was, we were all doomed, anyway.

  “Okay, let’s get on with this,” I said. “What’s the question?”

  “Okay, okay. Let’s see. Back in prehistoric times—”

  “Wait, you said no history! You said it would be about gossip!” I complained.

  “Oh, right—yes, I did. Forgive me. Hmmm, a question about g
ossip. Okay, then. Yes, I’ve got it. Who is the lucky new girl who has won the young god Apollo’s heart?”

  “What?” I screeched.

  “Yes, I heard he is happily in love with a young woman and they are off to settle in Crete somewhere, then they are to travel the world together.”

  “Are you sure it was…” I choked on the last word.

  “This is some sort of game, Thalia, a trick. We must get out of here,” said Polly as she clutched my hand and started to lead me away.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Oh, wait.” The bird laughed. “Wait, maybe it wasn’t Apollo, maybe it was Ares. I always get those two gods mixed up.”

  “How can you get them mixed up?” I screamed. “Apollo is young and gorgeous. Ares is old and fat and bald.”

  “I think it was Ares. Maybe it was Apollo. Oh, goodness, who knows? Never mind, obviously that question was no good. Let’s see, a new question. Hmmm.”

  “Um, Thalia, I think Polly is right. I have a bad feeling—let’s just get out of here,” Era whispered.

  “Listen, if we can get through this gate, we’ll at least be farther out of the Furies’ lair. Besides, I don’t want to find out which one of them was hiding back there.” I turned back to the bird creature. “Let’s hear the new question.”

  “Yes, okay, the question. Hmmm. Why was Eris not invited to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis?”

  “I know!” Polly, Era, and I each yelled out simultaneously.

  “She was a wretched person, and nobody wanted her to come,” said Polly.

  “The bride hated her,” I said.

  “She had atrocious hair,” said Era.

  On hearing our answers, the bird smiled in its beaky way. “You’re all right,” it said. “Bravo!”

  “Great, let us through,” I gushed. My sisters jumped up and down in excitement. We were going to make it!

  Then the bird started to laugh. No, not just laugh; it began to cackle. A giant red buzzer appeared out of nowhere, and a horrible noise echoed around us. “But it doesn’t matter! You lose all the same!” The buzzer was a loser button, like on those horrible game shows. The bird’s cackling got louder and thicker and higher as we gazed at each other in confusion. The sound was coming at us from every angle; it was surrounding us with hideous sound. The noise seemed like it could gobble us up right then and there.

  We turned around to see them then, standing there, their smiles as wide as Hera’s bottom. It was Meg, Alek…and Tizzie!

  TWELVE

  From his hiding space in the laundry pile, Apollo thought he heard voices. He tried to peek, but it was too risky to move an inch, so he just stayed put. He waited till the rustling sounds were gone before stepping out into the open and faced the three doorways once again. He could hear voices echoing from the one on the right. If the Furies had gone that way, maybe they would lead him to the place where his true love was locked away.

  When he opened the door, however, there was nothing but black space behind it. He opened the second door—the one in the middle. Just more black space. The third door held nothing behind it as well. Was this a trick? Was someone toying with him?

  Apollo was stunned. There was no place to go. He didn’t want to backtrack the way he’d come, for he was sure the Furies’ lair was still ahead of him. But now it looked like there was no way to move forward. Once again he stood helpless, wondering what his next move should be. No powers, no idea where the girls could be, no idea truly of where he was.

  “This whole thing is unfair!” he cried. “Rotten and unfair.” He sank down on the ground to think. His heart had an ache. It had been too long since he’d seen Thalia’s eyes. Her smile. Since he’d felt her hand in his. “Argh!” he screamed. “I’m running around like a crazed mortal in Hades, with no help from the other realm. I’ve got to save the girls—and myself—from this abominable fate!”

  Apollo paused. Fate? he thought. “Yes! Fate,” he yelled. “The Fates*!”

  Apollo realized he was talking to no one, yelling at air, and he quieted down. But this, he thought, this had to work.

  If he’d had his powers, all he would have had to do was call on them out loud and they would have appeared. But in this mortal form, he wasn’t sure they would listen. Still, he had to try.

  Apollo got on his knees, clenched his hands together, raised them above his head, and yelled, “Fates, I command you to show your faces!”

  A small bolt of lightning pinged off one of the doors. But no one appeared. Still, Apollo was hopeful, for his voice had at least produced a lightning bolt. No matter how small, it wasn’t bad for someone with no powers. He would try again.

  “Fates, I beg of you, show your faces!”

  This time a minuscule firecracker appeared, popped in midair, and then fizzled to the ground, leaving a small pile of ash on the hallway floor.

  “Hmmm, still nothing. Okay.” Apollo tried one last time. “Fates, please, you are my only hope, show your faces!”

  This time there wasn’t even a fizzle. The room was silent.

  It was useless without his powers. He was useless without his powers. How, he pondered, how does one reach the Fates when they have no godly powers of their own? And then he remembered an old children’s tale that his grandmother used to read to him. It was about Tartarus and the Fates. How did it go? He concentrated on the memory of sitting in his grandmother Gaia’s lap, in her overstuffed brocade chair, the book in her hand.

  There was once a young mortal boy named Gerard, who, curious as he was, was constantly finding himself in places he didn’t belong. Once, he followed a soldier twenty miles on foot, wandering straight onto a battlefield—all because he’d been enthralled by the soldier’s uniform. He even managed, at the tender age of eight, to gain entrance into Aphrodite’s changing room.

  But one particular time he took his curiosity a step too far. In the dark shadows of a particularly deep and dastardly swamp where he and his father were camping, Gerard spotted a boat that caught his fancy. He quietly tiptoed toward the vessel and, seeing that no one was inside, he climbed aboard. He pretended he was a great sea captain, commanding hundreds of men. But then he heard someone coming and crouched down into the bow, under a large box. Little did he know that he had stowed away on a boat bound for Tartarus.

  Gerard shivered and shook the whole ride there. Once the boat docked and the coast was clear, he got out—a big mistake—for as soon as he took one step onto land, the boat disappeared. He had no way of leaving Tartarus.

  Gerard was frightened, more frightened than he had ever been. He sat on a rock next to a small muddy creek and began to weep. The next morning a very old Tartarus witch, one of the Secret Society of Witch Tarts, found him crying. The Secret Society of Witch Tarts were a particularly evil brand of witches with many special powers, but this one in particular thought Gerard looked a lot like her own grandson, whom she hadn’t seen in many years.

  “What say you, boy?” she asked in her witchiest voice.

  “I’m not scared of you,” said young Gerard through tears.

  The witch liked the boy’s spunk and asked him why, then, he was crying.

  “I am crying because I miss my home. I would like to see my mama again. I cannot, can I?” And he began to cry even harder.

  The witch, who had a soft spot for young Gerard, could hear no more of his weeping. And using her special Witch Tart powers, she called on the Fates for help in getting Gerard back to his family. They came and listened as the Witch Tart pleaded the young boy’s case. The Fates then returned the boy to the mortal realm of the living.

  Yes, he thought, the Witch Tart was indeed able to contact the Fates, and the Fates had been able to get the boy out of Hades.

  Well, that was it. He would go in search of a member of the Secret Society of Witch Tarts.

  THIRTEEN

  Upon seeing the Furies—all three of the Furies—my sisters and I mustered up a weak, “Tizzie!”

  That’s right, Tizzie w
asn’t dead at all. But the toad was. Turns out my powers had been strong enough to create a toad out of thin air but not strong enough to turn one wicked witch goddess into the aforementioned toad.

  After the Furies had sent their scraggly pet bird creature on his way, and after they were finished laughing at our lousy attempt at an escape, our poor magical skills, and our wretched hairdos, they escorted us back to our “home,” aka the concrete box. It was a long walk, as filled with slime, bile, and gobbledygook as before.

  The bath that Era had conjured up was long gone. All that remained was a small puddle of lavender bubbles.

  I’d failed. Our escape had failed miserably, and now we were faced with Polly’s biggest fear: the Furies were actually more angry, more enraged than before. Maybe she had been right. Maybe things could get worse.

  It is here you will stay, in this tiresome abode,

  For thinking you can turn me into a dead toad.

  Tizzie was speaking; her sisters just stood on either side of her, their hands placed confidently on their hips, their gazes burning a hole right between my eyes.

  You thought it was bad, but thanks to your boldness

  We’re shrinking the space and

  increasing the coldness!

  At these words the temperature seemed to drop another twenty degrees. The room, which was already incredibly smushed, shrank even more right before our eyes.

  We’re going to leave you with jobs aplenty,

  Thirty-two thousand, three hundred and twenty.

  Well, at least that was no big shock. We were already expecting to do their chores for all eternity. But now, apparently, the chores were numbered on a giant scroll, which the Furies dropped at our feet at that moment. Then they left the room, laughing, slamming the big, thick door behind them. It locked with a giant click.