No, no, no, no, not interesting. Not one little bit. Jude’s right, Harpy’s are indeed Zeus’ minions. They’re big and bad and have a reputation for exacting all manner of evil and violence for their boss.
I exhale heavily. I can’t translate this. Harpies are nothing to mess with.
“I remember the story of when Zeus gave King Phineus of Thrace the gift of seeing the future, and he accidentally said too much,” I say, attempting to stall. “The fool gave away one of Zeus's secret plans so he punished the king by blinding him and putting him on an island with a buffet of food he could never eat because his harpies always arrived to steal it out of his hands before he could satisfy his hunger. Do you remember, Jude?”
I bite my lip. Come on, Harpoc. Where are you?
“Of course,” Jude says. “It continued until Jason and the Argonauts arrived. They’d been having problems figuring out a way around a perilous island. Phineus promised to tell them the course to take if they would deliver him from the harpies.”
“This is all fascinating, but what’s the rest of the scroll say?” Irik asks. He wags his brows. “I’m dying to know what secret a harpy could possibly have.”
Be careful what you wish for, Mister A. Nnoying Smartypants…
I clear my throat preparing to continue translating against my better judgment.
What if I mistranslate it? A flutter rises from my stomach at the completely random thought.
Yes. Mistranslating would surely keep Zephyr the harpy at bay. Right?
I shift and prepare to continue translating. “I confess that I”—I glance at my companions whose focus remains on the script— “I leaked Zeus’—”
“Wait, wait, wait. That’s a lion followed by two strokes, a single reed, and then a hand,” Irik blurts. “That’s ‘lied’ not ‘leaked,’ Pell.” The jerk wags his brows.
Urg. Busted!
“Sorry, my bad.”
Jude frowns. “You okay, Pell?”
“Yes. Sorry. Got ahead of myself.”
My boss bobs his head, indicating I should continue.
“I confess that I lied to Zeus.”
I again glance between the guys but get nothing but silence in return.
I can’t be held responsible.
You can, Pell. I exhale heavily.
The guys are waiting…
Blast it all. Harpoc.
“‘He instructed me to…’ Do you really want me to continue? Doesn’t it feel like we’re breaking some kind of confidence?”
Harpoc, come on, help a girl, would ya. The tone in my head turns pleading.
Jude and Irik furrow their brows.
“Why the hesitancy, Pell?” Jude asks.
“Oh, no. No hesitancy. It just feels… private is all.”
“Keep going,” Irik says, motioning.
I go back to my task. “‘He instructed me to haul that chupacabra off to Hades, but I didn’t.’ A gutsy move if you ask me,” I add.
Again only silence greets my exposition. I have just one sentence left.
You’re killing me, Harpoc. Killing me.
“‘The thing stunk to high Elysium, and I couldn’t do it.’” I exhale, tasting failure. “That’s everything.”
“That’s quite a secret, I must say.” Irik laughs. “Wonder what it means. Why would someone write something like that down? It doesn’t sound like any cultures I’ve yet studied.”
Jude’s smile eclipses his entire face. “Perhaps we’re about to discover a civilization predating Mycenae.”
Glad they’re excited because heaviness besets me. If this is like that sphinx, I’ve released Zephyr the harpy on the world and who knows what she’ll do?
Chapter Seventeen
“What’s this other scroll say, Pell?” Jude asks, motioning to the right, toward the other open manuscript. What’s left of its ragged corners are weighed down by chunks of loose limestone.
I barely resist closing my eyes with dread. As if a harpy unleashed on the world isn’t bad enough. They have no idea.
Harpoc, where are you? Get the lead out, I plead with the universe.
He came the instant I finished translating that other scroll. What’s taking him so long? He said he was “headed home” when he left last night. Exactly how far away is “home” for him? Was he “in the ‘hood’” and came immediately, before? So many questions. Surprise, surprise.
I fiddle with the ring on my finger as I try to come up with some excuse not to continue translating. The three of us have done enough damage.
As if in answer, the ground starts shaking and my eyes go wide. “Aftershock!”
Loose dirt begins raining down on us.
Irik looks at the ceiling. “Let’s get out of here.” His elbows press into his sides in fear.
If not for the situation, I would laugh at the big sissy.
“Yes, certainly,” Jude agrees, rising to standing.
No need to tell me twice.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, whoever you are who caused this. Not to be ungrateful, but if you can maybe also create a cave in, I’d really appreciate it. Oh, but wait until we’re out, okay?
More shaking is the only response. I’ll take it.
I grab my Maglite and bolt for the opening, taking the stairs two at a time. Those metallic eyes jump to the forefront of my mind as I propel myself upward as the shaking intensifies.
Okay bad idea, bad idea. No cave in, no cave in, please.
Everything will be okay, I keep telling myself.
Irik lumbers past me after ten steps.
Yeah, don’t mind me, ya pansy.
Halfway up, I start coughing as dust fills the stairway.
Faster, Pell, faster!
I steady myself with a hand against the trembling wall ten steps later.
Hey, I said no cave in!
The shaking continues, and I stagger out of the stairway and into the wind, coughing. A cloud of dust billows after me, but a stiff gust disburses it just as quickly.
Irik stands with his hands in his coat pockets, panting. “That was close.”
The tremor still shakes things, and I whirl around. “Where’s Jude?”
I look back into
