Persephone's Orchard (The Chrysomelia Stories) (27 page)

“You’ll pay for it.” He tied an extra knot in the willow-and-ivy reins. “Goddess only knows what kind of dreams you’ll have now.”

“I look forward to them. I’m sure they’re worth gaining the languages.”

“Foolish confidence of youth.” He hooked his elbow into hers and snapped the reins. The horses leaped upward, and the chariot tipped Persephone and Hades nearly onto their backs as they flew into the sky.

They straightened out over the land and began the flight up the river. “To be honest,” he said, “when I was your age I would have done the same. I suppose I did the nearest thing, volunteering as a sacrifice. Hoping to journey to the Underworld that way.”

“That’s much braver and more foolish than me. I wouldn’t dare be a sacrifice.”

“Let’s hope you never are.” His grave statement kept them quiet a while, then a snort of a laugh escaped him.

She looked at him. “What?”

Watching the horses, he shook his head. “It’s like having a dog. ‘What has she eaten now?’”

“
Not
very flattering.” She tried to look stern, and failed when laughter overtook her.

K
NIVES, BLOOD, CEREMONIES.
Beautiful chants under the stars, colorful murals on palace walls. A boy named Hades falling as voluntary sacrifice, his blood pooling down the steps to where she stood, only a few paces away, trying not to faint with horror. Then Rhea bringing her in secret to the court of the dead to witness his miraculous recovery…and after parting from him in Greece, the midnight squall at sea that sent the ship pitching onto its side, flinging her and everyone else overboard, the wet sails and beams trapping her under the heaving surface, saltwater invading her lungs…

Persephone awoke from her first memory-dream with a choked cry of terror, and Sophie did the same a moment later.

It was Saturday morning, and Melissa still slept, but the sky was light at the edges of their closed curtains. To calm and reorient herself, Sophie focused on real-world details: Melissa’s family photos taped to her wardrobe door; Sophie’s untidy stacks of books on the shelves.

Memory-dreams within memory-dreams. That was new. And confusing.

Closing her eyes again, she rubbed her eyelids, unable to hold back a shiver at the thought of young Hades being sliced open with a pair of blades. Hearing about it as history in Persephone’s time was nowhere near as disturbing as seeing it firsthand as Tanis. Even when, as Tanis, she fully believed it was done for the good of some all-powerful Goddess, it had been utterly horrible to witness.

And she couldn’t deny one of her reasons for being disturbed. Seventeen-year-old Hades, with his beard shaved and his curls cut to above his neck, looked more than ever like Adrian. The thought of watching him get sacrificed grieved her more than she expected.

Well, he was a friend. Quite a lot more than a friend. What did you call someone you’d been usually in love with for the past seventy-five lives?

Sophie pulled her phone off her desk, and found it was 9:04 a.m. She sent him a text.

Did you know I was Tanis who helped you escape the palace after the sacrifice? Of course you knew. Well, I didn’t till now. Freaked me the hell out.

She got out of bed and took her towel and basket of toiletries to the bathroom, closing the door quietly to avoid waking Melissa.

As she hung her worn red terrycloth bathrobe on the hook beside the showers, the phone buzzed from its pocket. She tucked the towel around her naked body and looked at the message.

Sorry you had to see that sacrifice. Always reckoned it looked even worse from the outside than it did from my point of view. So Persephone’s eaten the pomegranate now?

Yes
, she thumbed in.
Very sneaky of her. Me. Whoever.

True, and I still feel bad for that dog comment,
Adrian wrote.

Ha
, she answered.
I plan to call you a potbellied pig someday in revenge.

That’ll teach me. So what are you up to today?

Studying mostly. You?
she typed.

Same, kinda. If you can bring it elsewhere, want to study together?

Nervous pleasure warmed her belly. Her lip ran back and forth under her teeth, a smile emerging despite her stress.
Sure. What time?

Chapter Twenty-Three

D
EW SOAKED THE GRASS, WETTING
her high-top sneakers as she crossed the quad. The maple trees were turning brilliant yellow against the blue sky. The air was calm but cold, and smelled of smoke and damp forests. Southern Greece was decidedly warmer than Oregon, Sophie noted, wrapping her purple and blue scarf (knitted by her mom) one extra time around her neck.

She arrived at the newly chosen rendezvous spot and waited—between a hedge and a statue, near a lecture hall. Her backpack, stuffed with the laptop computer and a few books, dragged heavily on her shoulders. She wore the loose knitted cap that went with the scarf, but still shivered with cold.

A rustle in the hedge made her turn. Adrian emerged, pushing branches away from his face, and smiled. He wore a wool hat too, in gray rib knit, and had his flannel-lined coat buttoned up. On his back was a dark green pack with extra straps and pockets, probably intended for hiking. Dew sprinkled his boots and darkened his indigo jeans up to the knees, likely because the grass was higher in the other realm.

“Hi,” he said. “Ready?”

She nodded. Stepping up, she slipped her arms around his neck. Her cheek touched the rough wool of his coat.

Adrian held her around the waist, and the world transformed. Hedge, building, and statue vanished. Wet tips of meadow grass poked at her thighs, leaving cold wet spots on her jeans. Adrian’s hold went slack, but Sophie kept hugging him, on an impulse. It was cold, and he smelled good, and it had been a tough week and she could use a hug, was how she rationalized it to herself.

Adrian held still, as if processing the gesture, then responded, rewrapping his arms around her. He stroked her hat-covered head and let his hand settle between her shoulders.

After a few seconds, she let go, and he smiled, ducking his head. “Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning. It’s, uh, nice to see you…alive.”

He smiled kindly at her and bent to pet Kiri, who had bounded over. “Yeah, the memories can be traumatizing sometimes. Sorry about that.”

“Poor Tanis.” Sophie patted Kiri’s back. The wagging tail thumped her leg. “So this might count as spoilers, but does this connection thing between us keep going into the past? Before Hades and Tanis and all that?”

“Some, but not as much.” He started strolling across the meadow. She followed. “We were drawing closer to each other over the years, but it really kicked off with the Persephone lifetime.”

“And has been going strong ever since.” She said it as an observation, thinking back over the many lives; but when he sent her another shy smile, she realized how romantic a statement it was. Clearing her throat, she squinted at the trees ahead. “So, are we studying in the Airstream?”

“Yeah, nah. Niko’s brought me a generator, and he’s setting it up. He’s annoying, so we’ll go elsewhere.” They passed through the trees and emerged near the Airstream.

“Niko’s here? I should say hi. I feel bad for trying to beat him up when we first met.”

“Well, he did jump you. Beating him up was perfectly warranted.”

At that moment, Nikolaos sauntered into view from the front end of the trailer. He wore full soccer-fan regalia in some team that favored bright red and yellow: jacket, nylon shorts, cap, and scarf. “Sophia.” He waved a wrench at her in greeting. “Why, look. She does smile.”

“Hi, Niko.” She stopped before him, and they exchanged long, amused gazes. “Life sure has gotten interesting ever since you grabbed me.”

“I thought it might. And for once I am not being an insincere wanker when I say it’s wonderful to see you again.
Persephone
.” He said her name in the proper Greek pronunciation, all slanted and exotic.

“
Hermes
,” she responded in the same accent, then said in the proto-ancient-Greek tongue from her dreams lately, “For a complete scoundrel, you’re not too bad.”

Arms folded, he winked at her. Then his gaze moved to Adrian, and he hissed his breath inward. “Ooh, Adrian’s going to grab this wrench and brain me if I charm you any further. Be off, you two. Ade, the generator’s working fine. Just a few more adjustments to make.”

Adrian did look a tiny bit annoyed. “Cheers. We’re off to study.”

Nikolaos yawned. “Think I’ll nap in your bed while you’re away, before I head to Brazil.”

“As long as you take off your filthy shoes. And keep Kiri company. Put her out when you leave.”

Niko whistled to the dog. “Come here, girl. Naptime.”

He and Kiri climbed into the trailer, and Adrian led Sophie across the clearing to the bus and horses.

“Brazil?” she asked.

“Football match.” Adrian untied the reins and got seated in the bus. “As far as I can tell, he spends most of his time gambling, hitting on people, and watching football.”

Sophie slid her backpack to the bus’s floor and sat beside him. “By which you mean soccer, I assume.”

“Yes, although you Yanks are the only ones who call it that.” He smiled, got out his phone, and tapped the screen. “So. We can do real world today if you like. As long as it’s not somewhere we’re expected to be. Where’s a good coffee shop in another city?”

“Hmm. I’ve never been to San Francisco,” she suggested.

“Me neither.” He zoomed in on the map. “Let’s look for a park…good place to appear. Buena Vista Park. Not far from some big streets where there must be coffee. Shall we try it?”

“Sure.”

He offered his arm, and she took it, holding on tight. With a snap of the reins, the horses shot up over the treetops and went supersonic toward the south.

Rivers snaked past and mountains scooted along between islands of white clouds. The wind was frigid, and Sophie tugged her cap down around her ears. “Does Niko sleep in your bed a lot?”

“No.” He grinned at her, eyebrows diving down in the middle. “And what are you asking exactly?”

She laughed. “I have to wonder. He’s always been bi, in the lives I can remember. And you occasionally have been too.”

He returned to watching the terrain. “As have you. Usually when we were born into the opposite kind of body, though—me as a woman, or you as a man.”

“True. But in this life I’m straight. With a lesbian as a best friend, if that gives me street cred.”

“Really? Me too.”

“You too what? Straight, or the lesbian best friend?”

“Both,” he laughed. “My best mate Zoe—she’s gay. Says girls smell better. With which I agree. As for Niko, he’s certainly tried with me, but I’m not that desperate yet.”

“I see.”

Neither Zoe nor Niko was competition, then. Sophie’s mood did grow more buoyant at that news. But she still hadn’t told Adrian that she’d dumped Jacob, and nervousness frazzled her at the thought. She lowered her gaze to the backpacks at their feet. “What are
you
studying?”

“A lot of things. Adding to the catalog of safe places to appear and disappear. That usually means finding places like this park we’re going to, and writing down the coordinates for a list we’ve got going. We all add to it when we can. Need as many safe spots as we can get. Really awkward when you wing it and appear in someone’s kitchen or bathroom.”

“Hah. Yeah, I bet. Or a brick wall—what happens if there’s a wall where you want to appear?”

“Kicks you back out of it. Hurts, too. Could probably break bones if you were mortal. So, yeah nah, best to aim for outdoors when you switch.”

“So mainly you’re looking at maps today?”

“Only a bit. There’s also my Underworld job. Talk to the souls, find justice that needs to be done. Research murder trials, report back to the souls who were killed and tell them how it’s going. That sort of thing.”

His words stirred her memory. “You did that as Hades too. We both did.”

“Yep.”

“Is it only murder trials? Or do you do other kinds of justice and unfinished business too?”

He sighed. “I’d like to, but…unfinished business is usually ‘Tell so-and-so I love them,’ and
everyone
wants that. I could never do it all. And if it’s a crime that left the victim still alive, then obviously I’m not going to be seeing them down there—at least for a while—so they have to take care of their own justice. But murder victims, they’re the ones who can’t speak for themselves in the living world. And they’re the ones I
can
speak to. So if they know who killed them, and can give me clues that I can report as anonymous tips, then I do that for them.”

“Those are serious good deeds right there,” she said, impressed.