The Son of Neptune

Levesque.’

‘No!’ Hazel shouted. ‘No, please! That’s not fair.’

The judges tilted their heads in unison. Gold masks, Hazel thought. Gold has always been cursed for me. She wondered if the gold was poisoning their thoughts somehow, so that they’d never give her a fair trial.

‘Beware, Hazel Levesque,’ the first judge warned. ‘Would you take full responsibility? You could lay this guilt on your mother’s soul. That would be reasonable. You were destined for great things. Your mother diverted your path. See what you might have been …’

Another image appeared above the judges. Hazel saw herself as a little girl, grinning, with her hands covered in finger paint. The image aged. Hazel saw herself growing up – her hair became longer, her eyes sadder. She saw herself on her thirteenth birthday, riding across the fields on her borrowed horse. Sammy laughed as he raced after her: What are you running from? I’m not that ugly, am I? She saw herself in Alaska, trudging down Third Street in the snow and darkness on her way home from school.

Then the image aged even more. Hazel saw herself at twenty. She looked so much like her mother, her hair gathered back in braids, her golden eyes flashing with amusement. She wore a white dress – a wedding dress? She was smiling so warmly, Hazel knew instinctively she must be looking at someone special – someone she loved.

The sight didn’t make her feel bitter. She didn’t even wonder whom she would have married. Instead she thought: My mother might’ve looked like this if she’d let go of her anger, if Gaia hadn’t twisted her.

‘You lost this life,’ the first judge said simply. ‘Special circumstances. Elysium for you. Punishment for your mother.’

‘No,’ Hazel said. ‘No, it wasn’t all her fault. She was misled. She loved me. At the end, she tried to protect me.’

‘Hazel,’ Frank whispered. ‘What are you doing?’

She squeezed his hand, urging him to be silent. The judges paid him no attention.

Finally the second judge sighed. ‘No resolution. Not enough good. Not enough evil.’

‘The blame must be divided,’ the first judge agreed. ‘Both souls will be consigned to the Fields of Asphodel. I’m sorry, Hazel Levesque. You could have been a hero.’

She passed through the pavilion, into yellow fields that went on forever. She led Frank through a crowd of spirits to a grove of black poplar trees.

‘You gave up Elysium,’ Frank said in amazement, ‘so your mother wouldn’t suffer?’

‘She didn’t deserve Punishment,’ Hazel said.

‘But … what happens now?’

‘Nothing,’ Hazel said. ‘Nothing … for all eternity.’

They drifted aimlessly. Spirits around them chattered like bats – lost and confused, not remembering their past or even their names.

Hazel remembered everything. Perhaps that was because she was a daughter of Pluto, but she never forgot who she was, or why she was there.

‘Remembering made my afterlife harder,’ she told Frank, who still drifted next to her as a glowing purple Lar. ‘So many times I tried to walk to my father’s palace …’ She pointed to a large black castle in the distance. ‘I could never reach it. I can’t leave the Fields of Asphodel.’

‘Did you ever see your mother again?’

Hazel shook her head. ‘She wouldn’t know me, even if I could find her. These spirits … it’s like an eternal dream for them, an endless trance. This is the best I could do for her.’

Time was meaningless, but after an eternity, she and Frank sat together under a black poplar tree, listening to the screams from the Fields of Punishment. In the distance, under the artificial sunlight of Elysium, the Isles of the Blest glittered like emeralds in a sparkling blue lake. White sails cut across water and the souls of great heroes basked on the beaches in perpetual bliss.

‘You didn’t deserve Asphodel,’ Frank protested. ‘You should be with the heroes.’

‘This is just an echo,’ Hazel said. ‘We’ll wake up, Frank. It only seems like forever.’

‘That’s not the point!’ he protested. ‘Your life was taken from you. You were going to grow up to be a beautiful woman. You …’

His face turned a darker shade of purple. ‘You were going to marry someone,’ he said quietly. ‘You would have had a good life. You lost all that.’

Hazel swallowed back a sob. It hadn’t been this hard in Asphodel the first time, when she was on her own. Having Frank with her made her feel so much sadder. But she was determined not to get angry about her fate.

Hazel thought about that image of herself as an adult, smiling and in love. She knew it wouldn’t take much bitterness to sour her expression and make her look exactly like Queen Marie. I deserve better, her mother always said. Hazel couldn’t allow herself to feel that way.

‘I’m sorry, Frank,’ she said. ‘I think your mother was wrong. Sometimes sharing a problem doesn’t make it easier to carry.’

‘But it does.’ Frank slipped his hand into his coat pocket. ‘In fact … since we’ve got eternity to talk, there’s something I want to tell you.’

He brought out an object wrapped in cloth, about the same size as a pair of glasses. When he unfolded it, Hazel saw a half-burnt piece of driftwood, glowing with purple light.

She frowned. ‘What is …’ Then the truth hit her, as cold and harsh as a blast of winter wind. ‘Phineas said your life depends on a burnt stick -’

‘It’s true,’ Frank said. ‘This is my lifeline, literally.’

He told her how the goddess Juno had appeared when he was a baby, how his grandmother had snatched the piece of wood from the fireplace. ‘Grandmother said I had gifts – some talent we got from our ancestor, the Argonaut. That, and my dad’s being Mars …’ He shrugged. ‘I’m supposed to be too powerful or something. That’s why my life can burn up so easily. Iris said I would die holding this, watching it burn.’

Frank turned the piece of tinder in his fingers. Even in his ghostly purple form, he looked so big and sturdy. Hazel figured he would be huge when he was an adult – as strong and healthy as an ox. She couldn’t believe his life depended on something as small as a stick.

‘Frank, how can you carry it around with you?’ she asked. ‘Aren’t you terrified something will happen to it?’

‘That’s why I’m telling you.’ He held out the firewood. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you keep it for me?’

Hazel’s head spun. Until now, she’d accepted Frank’s presence in her blackout. She’d led him along, numbly replaying her past, because it seemed only fair to show him the truth. But now she wondered if Frank was really experiencing this with her, or if she was just imagining his presence. Why would he trust her with his life?

‘Frank,’ she said, ‘you know who I am. I’m Pluto’s daughter. Everything I touch goes wrong. Why would you trust me?’

‘You’re my best friend.’ He placed the firewood in her hands. ‘I trust you more than anybody.’

She wanted to tell him he was making a mistake. She wanted to give it back. But before she could say anything a shadow fell over them.

‘Our ride is here,’ Frank guessed.

Hazel had almost forgotten she was reliving her past. Nico di Angelo stood over her in his black overcoat, his Stygian iron sword at his side. He didn’t notice Frank, but he locked eyes with Hazel and seemed to read her whole life.

‘You’re different,’ he said. ‘A child of Pluto. You remember your past.’

‘Yes,’ Hazel said. ‘And you’re alive.’

Nico studied her like he was reading a menu, deciding whether or not to order.

‘I’m Nico di Angelo,’ he said. ‘I came looking for my sister. Death has gone missing, so I thought … I thought I could bring her back and no one would notice.’

‘Back to life?’ Hazel asked. ‘Is that possible?’

‘It should have been.’ Nico sighed. ‘But she’s gone. She chose to be reborn into a new life. I’m too late.’

‘I’m sorry.’