ask.
“No one can ever leave the Underworld.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Except the exceptions of course,” I say. “And me.”
Shayne rolls his eyes. “I’m not talking about you. You haven’t died. Not to mention you came here by your own choice, and you are my guest.”
His guest. I like that. “Too bad.” I’m joking, but only kind of. “If I couldn’t leave, I’d have to stay here forever. And my mom couldn’t do anything about it.”
Shayne’s face tightens, and it looks like I’ve made him mad.
“What? I’m only kidding.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
But my mind tells me I should know why he’s upset. “What did I say wrong?”
“Wrong?” Shayne stands up. “You didn’t say anything wrong.” He walks away from the fireplace—away from me. I watch his feet step across the red and black mosaic floor—the floor I love as if I’ve created it myself.
I stand up and follow him. He reaches a table set against the far wall. It’s black wood, buffed to such a high polish, I can see his reflection in it. A picture hangs overhead, oil painted on canvas, with souls and angels and demons and Hell partitioned into regions with rivers flowing throughout. “Then why are you upset?” I ask.
Shayne turns and leans against the table which rocks under his weight. All at once, his eyes shift. Flickering, but so fast they’re like sparks in a fire. Like the air around him could ignite if he wanted it to. He’s holding a helmet of some sort. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s made to cover only the crown of the head, and it shines of pure gold.
He holds it out to me, and the air crackles around him and it. “Piper, do you know what this is?”
My breath catches in my throat. I do. I know exactly what it is. I’ve seen this object many times before, but I don’t remember any of them. “It’s the Helm of Darkness.”
Shayne’s face relaxes as if the weight of the helmet has been removed from his head. “Yes. It’s the Helm of Darkness.”
My mind forms the words for me. “It makes its wearer invisible.”
Shayne nods and turns, setting it back on the table. “Do you know who I am?” He turns back when he says it, and it looks like he’s going to take a step closer to me, but he doesn’t.
My feet feel planted in the ground; I can’t move. “Shayne. You’re Shayne.”
“And…?”
I take a deep breath. I’m not sure why I have a hard time saying it—even to myself. “You’re Hades. Lord of the Underworld.”
Shayne’s eyes bore into me, and I take a step back without even thinking about it. “And who are you?” he says.
I don’t know who I am. I want to be someone else, but I’m not sure who. Someone who lives a life of tattoos and danger. Someone who doesn’t obey every small command her mother makes. I want to be that person, but I know I’m not.
“I’m Piper,” I say, but I feel like there’s more.
Shayne’s eyes stay locked on mine, but something disappears from them. Something hopeful and mysterious. “Yes. You’re Piper.” He walks toward me, and his eyes return to normal. He leans forward and kisses me on the lips gently. And I know whether he claims to be a god or an average guy, I love him.
“Are you ready to see Asphodel?”
With Shayne, I’m ready for anything. “Tell me about Asphodel.”
“It’s the place in between,” he says. “For the souls who aren’t so good and aren’t so bad.”
“Like Purgatory?”
He seems to consider this. “Purgatory. That’s one way to look at it.”
Shayne smiles, and I never want him to stop. His smile has a way of filling me with a comfort I haven’t felt my entire life. I link my arm around his, and we start walking. “Except no one minds being there. They don’t even think about it.”
“So Randy is happy?” Maybe I can just find him in Asphodel and say goodbye. Tell him I’m sorry.
Shayne’s smile turns wry. “I’m not sure I’d go quite that far. But I’ll let you decide for yourself.” And then he picks up the Helm of Darkness and clips it onto his belt, and we move out of his sanctuary into the blackness of another tunnel.
Chapter 24
Asphodel
Nice is erroneous. From the minute we reach the barren, red shore, I know this: Asphodel is a hell. Not like the eternal torture Shayne tells me is Tartarus. But a hell all the same.
The thick scent of musty wet clay hits me from the first step. I screw up my nose and look out from the mouth of the cave. “Which river is this?” I motion out beyond the dried up red river banks to the churning rusty water in the middle, and I see monsters again, but they aren’t staying under the surface. They’re jumping above, baring their fangs, snapping at each other. Their razored fins slice at each other, and if they bleed, their blood blends with the red water.
Shayne presses his lips together. “The River Lethe. Passageway to the Asphodel Meadows.”
Clay cakes under my feet, pulling at my sandals until I toss them aside altogether, letting my toes sink into the oozing redness. Along the shore lie skeletons of boats marooned in the thick clay, falling to pieces. It’s a dead world and a dead river with nothing alive except the monsters waiting for us. In a way, it reminds me of how my world will look should the Global Heating Crisis continue. And there’s no reason to think it won’t. I imagine the Botanical Haven as a singular oasis amid a world of barren desert because I know my mom would never move to a city below ground. And I know she’d want me by her side.
Will the world really come to that? Will my life really come to that?
Shayne and I walk to the dock; its piers aren’t even submerged until halfway out, and when we reach the water, thankfully the monsters stay away from Shayne. It’s like he’s got an invisible force field surrounding him, and I happen to be lucky enough to be ensconced in it.
I motion to the monsters. “They never bother you?”
Shayne unclips the Helm of Darkness and holds it out. Around us, the monsters move back, increasing the distance between them and us. “The Helm makes the wearer invisible, Piper, but it also helps maintain control of the evils here in the Underworld. It’s one of the final remaining gifts from the Cyclops. One of the only few that still exists.” As he moves it, the monsters shift, keeping the distance even.
“They’re more active than the others.” And I let out a small laugh that even to me sounds like my throat is shaking.
“They’re fed well.” Shayne steps down into the mud-caked boat, and I follow, not waiting for his hand. I don’t want to spend even a second too far from him with these things flying around.
“More sorrows?” Like the monsters in the River Acheron, I figure these monsters must eat sorrows.
But Shayne shakes his head and shoves the boat off from the dock. He hoists the rope in, and it drops on the floor of the boat with a thud.
I scoot away, not wanting a drop of the tarnished water to touch me.
“Memories,” he says. “When souls head to Asphodel, they leave everything behind. And the monsters eat it all.”
“Everything?”
“Everything. Names. Happiness. Fears. Goals. Every piece of thought which makes a soul what it is stays behind in the River Lethe.” Shayne clips the Helm of Darkness back onto his belt. The monsters edge back in, but still stay outside our boundary.
“And that’s what happened to Randy?”
Shayne motions back to the red river. “He left everything here. Randy doesn’t even remember who he
