Solstice (28 page)

“No, Piper. Nothing like that.”

“Then what?” I need to know. “You can only win something when you’re competing against someone else.”

“Look. Ares doesn’t care about the prize. He only cares about the battle and the conquest. He thrives on it. You can think whatever you want, but just remember that. He’s the god of war.”

I roll my eyes. It’s not like this is some kind of amusement park game and I’m the giant stuffed animal up for grabs. This is my life. “I have no plans to go near Reese.” And it’s true. I can only hope he’s gone by the time I get back home and that I never see him again.

Shayne twists up his lips. “Yes, but I’m sure he has plans to go near you.”

I cross my arms. “I’ll be careful. As long as he doesn’t hold me at knife point and threaten to throw me into Tartarus, everything should be fine.”

Shayne doesn’t laugh. He caresses my ear, sending a wonderful chill down below my stomach. And then he gives me a wistful smile and walks away, leaving me to return to Earth above.

I
return from the Underworld and find myself by the Spanish Oak. Reese is nowhere to be found. Overhead, the birds flutter through the trees. Birds. Phoenix. I look up and imagine I see a purple and red bird overhead bathed in flames, but there’s no fire. There’s no sun. A giant gray cloud fills the sky, and the wind picks up and starts blowing leaves off the tree.

I know I need to go back home and see if my mom will tell me what’s going on. She’s keeping secrets from me about who I am. Who she is. It’s like I don’t know her. And I don’t even know myself.

I try to piece it out in my mind, but there’s just nothing that makes sense. I’ve lived with my mom my entire life. That’s all I am. Still, there has to be something more. Otherwise, why would two Greek gods suddenly be fighting for my attention?

A gust of wind slams into the tree, and a cracking sound cuts into the air. I hardly have time to jump out of the way before a branch from the Spanish Oak falls to the ground right where I was standing. Would it have killed me? Would I be judged just like Randy Conner? I try to think of the good things I’ve done in my life. Are they worthy of paradise?

As I walk out of the woods, the wind starts to really pick, so I run until I’m in front of the shuttle stop. My tattoo aches, and it’s turning red again. The ink has faded a few shades, but the raised scar underneath remains. And I think of the face I saw in Asphodel. Like a shadow of Chloe. It had to have been a shade of Reese in disguise, but the ghost Chloe reminds me too much of the fading tattoo. I brush it with my hand, and it deepens again.

When the shuttle stops, I hop on and head for her house. The wind’s blowing so hard it pushes on the shuttle, but the driver has his hands tight on the wheel. It’s getting dark outside, almost like night, and I think most people will be heading inside. But around the steel struts that reach upward to form the domes, there are work crews everywhere. I get off the shuttle at Chloe’s stop, but before I walk the remaining distance to her house, I move closer to one of the steel legs and try to see what’s going on.

There’s a panel open, and one of the workers is guiding a sand truck that’s dumping into it. My mom told me they use sand to help grow the glass in the dome, but I thought the domes needed time to recharge. I walk up to the nearest worker and tap him on the shoulder. He turns around to face me.

“What’s going on?” I ask. From above, tiny drops of rain begin to fall down. They’re heavy and sparse, and I can see each drop when it lands on the concrete surrounding the steel supports.

“You need to get inside.” He looks back at the panel.

“Why? What are you doing with the dome?”

He flips the control panel he’s been working on closed and finally looks me in the eye. “Running tests,” he says, and I see his lie thick on him, growing like a dark gray fungus.

I wipe the rain off my face. They shouldn’t be doing anything with the domes. I pull out my FON and text my mom. I’m still freaked that she knows Reese, but I’m not going to ask her about that now. It’s not like I can text the message, “why do u know the god of war?” and get any kind of real response.

“what’s going on with the dome?” I text her instead.

She responds in seconds. “get home. talk when u get here.”

I start to type out the next message, to tell her about the sand, but then stop. I’m not ready to head home yet. I pocket my FON and sprint to Chloe’s house. The wind has started blowing hard enough I have to fight against it as I run. My hair’s blowing every single way and getting in my eyes, and anything not tied down is starting to move.

Chloe’s sitting outside when I get there, arms wrapped around herself, legs drawn up into her. It’s like she doesn’t even realize the wind is blowing. Overhead, a tile blows off her roof and crashes to the walkway where it shatters. The streets are littered, and where any trees still stand, branches snap off and fall.

“It’s freezing here.” She doesn’t even look up at me, but she has to know I’ve arrived because there’s no one else around she could be talking to. “Have you noticed how cold it is?”

I stand over her. “Chloe, we need to get you inside.” More tiles pull from the roof. We’re under the patio cover, but the way the wind is blowing, one good gust and it could be gone.

“The world feels like ice.”

Ice. I think of the River Cocytus between Hell and the Elysian Fields. Frozen over, but still the wraithlike monsters swim underneath, hoping for an opening but never finding one.

She lets me help her up, and then we walk inside. Her mom shuts the door behind me and starts telling me how’s she’s been trying to get Chloe inside for the last half hour. Chloe’s mom is normally a calm person, but she’s freaked. Her eyes look bloodshot from worry, and she keeps hovering over Chloe.

The rain comes down in sheets then, pounding on the roof of the patio. I’ll have to stay at Chloe’s house until the storm relents. My mom may want me home, but she won’t want me walking or taking a shuttle in this mess. I text her a quick, “waiting til storm stops” and leave it at that.

Chloe’s mom finally goes into the kitchen to make us some coffee which leaves Chloe and me alone. We sit on the sofa, and I try to figure out how to start this conversation with her. There’s been so much going on, I don’t know where to begin. So much has happened even just today. This hurricane is only the most recent part.

“I missed you at the funeral,” I say and put my hand on Chloe’s. But I yank it back at the touch. She is freezing. Like she’s kept her hand in an ice bin to numb it. I force myself to reach back out and put my hand on hers, rubbing it to warm her. I try to ignore the sound of the wind beating against her house and the memories of Minos accusing me at knifepoint.

“I was there. In the back.”

“I didn’t see you,” I say.

“I saw Randy.” She turns to me at this, and her eyes dig into mine, but they look odd. Like her pupils are tiny dots in the center of giant, oversized irises. Irises so big they should touch the boundaries of her eyes. But there’s white all around—encompassing them. I remember something I heard once about white showing all around the eye. Something about violent death.

My heart skips a beat, and I’m afraid to look away. Like Chloe might vanish on me or something. Sink down right now into the ground and be swallowed up. “Randy’s dead,” I say. “It was his funeral.”

And Chloe cannot be seeing ghosts.

But Chloe shakes her head so furiously, I’m actually happy. It’s the first bit of emotion she’s shown since her near-death experience. “No! I saw him there. He was watching. Listening.” And she grips my hand with such force my knuckles feel like they might pop.

Her mom walks back in the room right then and sets two cups of steamy coffee down on the table. She gives me a small smile, but then a boom of thunder hits. We all jump, and Chloe’s mom bumps her hand into one of the cups, splashing coffee over the side. I pull my hand away from Chloe’s and reach for a towel to wipe it up.

Chloe’s mom mouths me a silent, “Thank you.”

I nod in response, and then she leaves the room.

Chloe takes a long sip of coffee and then rubs her hands together, warming them. “So what’s going on Piper?”

This is it. I can tell her about everything. Reese. Shayne. The Underworld. I can warn her to stay far away from Reese. But as I go over the phrasing, it just feels so off. I’m walking around in a world of mythology; who is going to believe that?

Outside, there’s a groaning, like a giant metal monster has just woken up. Chloe and I both jump at the sound because it sounds like something is going to crash in on us. I look to the window, but she has the shades pulled. And then the sound stops.

I wait for my breath to return. “I’m not sure where to start,” I say.

Chloe gives me a smile. “Start anywhere. I feel like I’ve lost the last week.” It’s like it’s the old Chloe. She’s back. And Death has left her behind.

I scoot closer to her and relink my fingers with hers. Her hands have warmed up again, and her tattoo is normal. I look to mine and see they match. Black and solid.
Sacrifice
.

For some reason, Minos’s words come back to me.
Do you know what the penalty for killing a phoenix is?
I ignore them.

I start with something easy. “My mom got back today,” I say, grasping for straws. “She said my father wants custody.”

“Custody?” Chloe’s voice echoes my own amazement.

“Yeah. Weird, huh?”

The metal outside groans again though not as loud. I think the wind must be hitting against the metal beams.

“Totally weird. You’re eighteen. Parents don’t get custody at eighteen.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” And then I lean closer though no one is around to hear. “I have to admit I’m a little curious, Chloe.”

She moves her fingers until our thumbs press together. “About your father?”

I nod. “I might get to meet him. And he wants me in his life.”

Chloe purses her lips. “I don’t know, Piper. He got convicted as a terrorist.”

“That’s what my mom says. But maybe she’s lying. Maybe she’s just been keeping me away from him.”

Chloe doesn’t answer. She knows if it were up to my mom, I’d live with her until I was a hundred years old.

“Seriously, Chloe. I want to meet him.”

Chloe doesn’t seem to hear me. Or she chooses to ignore me. “He was so sad, Piper.”

“My father?”

Chloe shakes her head. “Randy. His father beats his mom. And his little sister. Did you know that? She’s only seven.”

The blood freezes in my veins at her words, and the chill that runs through me knocks the wind out of me. How could Chloe possibly know Randy Conner’s final sorrow? How could she know about his abusive father? I lived next to him for four years, yet I had no idea.

“He asked me to help. Wanted me to do something.” Chloe looks away, and I can finally blink when her enlarged eyes leave mine.

I believe her. She’s talked with Randy Conner’s spirit as surely as I’ve gone to Hell. “What can you do?” When I say it, I’m not really asking her. I’m asking Shayne, but I know he won’t answer. His realm is the Underworld, not abusive dealings of the world above. He’s made that clear.

Chloe sighs, but she doesn’t answer. She wraps her arms back around herself, and turns away. “I did it again, Piper.”

“Did what?” I ask. At this point, I have no idea where Chloe’s disjointed conversation will take me. And I realize she’s not ready for me to tell her anything about my life just yet.

“It was this weird urge,” she says.

“Weird like how?”

Chloe actually lets out a laugh; there’s not an ounce of humor in it. “I cut my sheets into thin strips.”

I try to hold my face steady and act like maybe this is a normal thing. “Oh. Why?”

Chloe shakes her head, making her brown bandana fall askew. But she doesn’t straighten it. “They felt so dirty. I washed them but it didn’t help, so I cut them up. But I still can’t sleep on the bed, Piper, so I moved to the floor.”

My breathing has stopped, but I manage to get words out. “Why did they feel dirty?” Out of nowhere, I imagine Chloe sleeping with someone on her bed and then needing to wash the sheets afterward. I know Chloe’s slept with two guys before, but there’s no one I’m aware of at the present.

Chloe doesn’t turn to me and doesn’t reply.

“What’s wrong, Chloe?”

In profile, I see a tear creep into the corner of her eye, but her lips stay together. I’m tempted to press her—to ask her again. But the wind slams into the house again, and this time, it hits the window and sends glass scattering into the room. I jump up but Chloe doesn’t even move. I hear her mom from the kitchen calling in to ask what happened.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask.

She nods. “You need to leave, Piper.”

Hurt runs through me. I start to ask why, but she talks again.

“Now, Piper. Just please leave now.”