Authors: Whitaker Ringwald
Ethan was distracted by an historic marker of some sort, which made perfect sense because he loved that kind of stuff. The bronze plaque had a drawing of some men dressed in Revolutionary clothing. Ethan began to read aloud:
When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
“I do not understand,” Pyrrha said. “What are these words?
Ethan's brain went into factoid mode. “That's the opening paragraph to the Declaration of Independence. It's a document that describes the reasons why this country was founded.” He pointed to the words. “âIt becomes necessary to dissolve the political bands' means that we didn't want to be ruled by England anymore.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because we didn't like their laws,” Tyler said. “Their king was a butthead.”
She read the next section:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
“You have the right to be . . . happy?” she asked. Then she laughed. “And the right to life and liberty? This is unheard of in my world. The gods take lives as they wish, and grant whatever they feel like granting. You are lucky they no longer inhabit your world.”
I remembered some of those stories I'd read in the mythology book, about how the gods got jealous and turned a beautiful woman into a hideous creature with snakes coming out of her head. And how they tricked a man into murdering his own father. I guess it was a good thing that they'd moved out of the neighborhood.
A few minutes later, we reached Tyler's car. “So, where are we going?” he asked.
Pyrrha set her bag inside, then she removed the brown belt that had been wrapped around her waist. It was the same belt she'd taken to the Puzzle Master. I'd forgotten about the belt!
“When I collected the urn of Hope from your great-aunt's room, I found this.” We all leaned close as she straightened the leather. A line of symbols had been printed from one end to the other.
“That's Greek,” Tyler said.
“Yes, but the letters are jumbled. They make no sense.” She ran her finger across the ink. “I asked your great-aunt but she could not remember anything about the belt. Her mind was confused.”
“I bet I know what that is,” Tyler said, taking the belt in his hands. He didn't know that Pyrrha and the Puzzle Master had already discussed this. “It's called a cipher. You need to wind it around a cylinder of the correct size. That's called a key. Then you can read the actual message.”
“Does this have something to do with the urns?” I asked.
“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “I have a feeling that it does.”
If I could respect anything, it was an instinctual
feeling
. “Do you think Juniper has the key?” I asked. “We could go back to Sisters of Mercy
and look through her stuff.”
Tyler pointed a finger in the air, as if a great idea was about to sprout from it. “What if we already have the key? Something that's small and cylindric.”
“The urn!” Ethan cried. Then his shoulders slumped. “Oops, the urn is gone.”
“No problem,” Tyler said. “We just have to find something that's the same size and shape. Hmmmm.” He held out his hand. “It was about this big, right? The size of a cup, narrower at the base and getting wider near the top.” He stuck his head into his car and rummaged around, then came back out with a huge grin on his face. And a Starbucks coffee cup.
We all watched as he wound the belt around the cup. Then he held it out to Pyrrha. “I can read some Greek but you'd better do this.”
While Tyler slowly turned the cup, Pyrrha read. We listened, holding our breaths as if she were about to spill a classified government secret.
“The . . . lock . . . smith . . . will . . . unlock . . . love . . . with . . . a . . . kiss.”
The locksmith? I inhaled so quickly, I started to cough.
“Do you know the meaning of this phrase?” Pyrrha asked. Everyone turned to look at me.
“Yes,” I said. “Well, I don't know the whole meaning but I know who the Locksmith is. I've never met him, but he'sâ”
“Don't say anything!” Ethan cried. Then he motioned frantically. “I need to talk to you two. In private!”
Tyler and I joined Ethan on the sidewalk. He turned his back to Pyrrha, who was winding the belt around her waist again. “I just want to remind you that we're supposed to be going home tomorrow, remember?”
“We'll tell the parental units that we want to stay at the festival longer,” Tyler said.
“Yes,” I agreed. “We have to help Pyrrha find the urn of Love, Ethan. She's the only one who can destroy these things. That's what Great-Aunt Juniper wants. That's been her goal ever since she found the urn of Hope. When they're gone, she won't have to hide anymore. She'll be able to live a normal life.”
“Not to mention the rest of the world won't be in danger,” Tyler said.
“So you guys believe all this?” Ethan asked.
“That she's Pyrrha, and that the urn of Hope is with Zeus, in the Realm of the Gods?”
“Yes,” I said. “As crazy as it sounds, yes, yes, yes.”
“Me too,” Tyler said. “And when this is over, I'm going to give her part ownership in Cyclopsville. She can help us make it totally authentic. Do you think she can get me some footage of a real Cyclops? That would be awesome!”
I ignored Tyler and put both my hands on Ethan's shoulders. I could tell by the way he was chewing on his lip that he was freaking out. “It's going to be okay,” I told him. “We had already accepted all this stuff. We knew the gods were real, we knew that the urns were powerful. This is just a little bit more information.”
“It's
a lot
more,” he said. “The gods
still
exist.”
I laughed. “Yeah. Pretty cool, huh?” This was the kind of realization that people would write books and songs about. This was as surprising as learning that Santa Claus was real. Or having a spaceship land in your backyard. I felt all bouncy inside, so I hugged Ethan, real hard. I even hugged Tyler. “Let's do this.”
Then we all got into the car. “What did you
decide during your council?” Pyrrha asked. “Will you help me with the riddle? Do you know who the Locksmith is?”
“Yes,” I said. “He's my father.”
REPORT #572A, FILED BY: Tyler Hoche, Team Captain
MISSION: Quest of the Secret Cipher
TEAM MEMBERS: Jax Malone, 2nd in Command
Ethan Hoche, Technical Officer
Pyrrha, Beautiful Visitor from Another Realm
TIME: 10:30
P.M
.
LOCATION: Boston, MA
I
t was obvious from the start that our chances were slim. Thanks to my quick thinking and selfless nature, my crew had survived the prior quest in Washington, DC, though I'd barely made it out alive. Now, one
month later, we found ourselves under the surveillance of a master criminal. This new quest was going to prove more difficult and, possibly, more dangerous.
While I was skilled in intelligence gathering and clandestine maneuvers, my ragtag crew were total newbs. My second in command was a girl who talked too much and got distracted by anything purple or glittery. The technical officer was a shy, nerdy boy prone to bloody noses and excessive worrying. We were doomed.
But then a new crew member arrived. She kissed my cheek. She said she was from another dimension. She was smart, beautiful, and mythological. I'd have to be careful around her. Too much time in her gaze and my brain might turn to mush. I let her sit in the front seat of my chariot.
She was our best hope for survival.
She brought a cipher, and using our combined mental prowess, we unleashed its code.
The Locksmith will unlock love with a kiss.
It became clear to us that the Locksmith was somehow involved with the urns, but before we set out to find him, the following intel was uncovered:
Pyrrha is a mortal, not a god.
The myth about Pandora's box is true.
Pyrrha came to our world to retrieve the urns of Hope, Faith, and Love.
We informed Pyrrha that after Juniper took the urn home, and as she tried to figure out a way to destroy it, she established a friendship with a man named Isaac Romero, aka the Locksmith, who happened to be the biological father of my second in command. Unbeknownst to the rest of us, the second in command had been in contact with the Locksmith via email. She'd uncovered his locationâa top secret federal prison where he was serving time for breaking and entering. The technical officer located the coordinates on his iPhone and set a course. Parental units were called and lied to, a necessary component for the quest's success. I informed Pyrrha that she looked like a Aegean goddess in her blue dress. Second in command was demoted to third in command for telling me to stop acting so embarrassing and stupid.
With the newbs in the backseat and Pyrrha by my side, we set off on our quest. I did not question the circumstances. Pyrrha and I had been brought together by forces unseen. Seemed that love was in the air, and we were its victims.
I
t was way past our bedtimes. Tyler kept himself awake by guzzling lattes and pounding doughnuts. His gaming marathons had trained him to stay awake through the night, so I wasn't worried that he'd fall asleep at the wheel.
But I was crazy worried that Ricardo would find us again.
Ethan checked to make sure the GPS thingy was turned off on his phone. I watched out the back window. It didn't look like anyone was following. But how could I be sure? The Camels had stuck a tracking device under Great-Aunt Juniper's skin. Ricardo could have stuck one on Tyler's car.
How would we know until it was too late?
The prison camp was located fifty-seven miles from the nearest town. We'd run out of cash, and we couldn't use the credit card because if we did, our parents would probably find out that we lied about spending the night in Boston. So rather than getting a room at the last hotel we passed, we drove to a rest stop and parked. Then we slept in the car. Pyrrha drifted off right away, her head on Tyler's shoulder. Ethan totally hogged the backseat by stretching out his legs. It didn't really matter. I was too nervous to sleep.
I was going to meet my dad.
When morning came, we tried to clean up in the rest-stop bathroom. Ethan had a fit because there was no soap in the men's room so I had to squirt extra on my hand and bring it to him. I wished I could take a shower so I'd look nicer. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and put on a clean T-shirt and a pair of shorts from my backpack. Pyrrha didn't seem to need anything. Her dress looked great, and her hair had stayed perfectly smooth, even after car sleeping.
Tyler also changed his shirt, and borrowed some toiletries from Ethan. It was so obvious that
he was trying to look good for our guest. “Did you rub that stuff all over your body?” I asked, cringing from the deodorant cloud that clung to him.
“I think he smells nice,” Pyrrah said, sniffing Tyler's shirt. “Sandalwood?”
“Hypoallergenic sandalwood,” Ethan corrected as he put the deodorant into his backpack.
We were out in the country, surrounded by trees. As Tyler drove the last few miles to the prison, we ate some gas station snacks. I rolled down the window. The fresh air was a welcome relief from Tyler's deodorant offgassing. Pyrrha leaned her arm on the door and stuck her face into the wind. I used to love doing that when I was little. As her hair rippled, it sparkled with bits of sunshine. We passed a sign that read,
Brookville Federal Prison Camp, Next Exit
.
“Why is your father in prison?” Pyrrha asked, turning to look at me.
“Breaking and entering into someone's private home,” I said. “I guess he was trying to steal something. I don't really know.”
“Both of our fathers are thieves,” she said sadly. “My father created this catastrophe. We may need your father to help us end it.”
Suddenly I didn't feel as ashamed. I wasn't the only girl who had a less-than-perfect parent. There were worse things a person could do than to steal. Maybe my father was a nice man who'd taken the wrong path. My mom had fallen in love with him, so he had to have a good side. And Great-Aunt Juniper had trusted him. There had to be more to him than the label “convicted criminal.”
Ethan looked up from his phone. “Take this exit.”
No barbed-wire fence surrounded the prison, no towers or armed guards ready to shoot anyone who tried to escape. It looked like a boring old office building. Two other cars were parked in the visitors' lot. A woman sat in her driver's seat, putting on makeup. Another woman and child were just getting out of their car. “Anyone want the last doughnut?” Tyler asked, holding up the box. My stomach clenched. If I never saw another doughnut again it would be too soon. Pyrrha, however, had said they were better than ambrosia. She grabbed the last one and ate it in two bites. Tyler watched, his eyes wide with respect. Here was a girl who could probably keep up with him in an eating contest.
It's weird how quickly you can get used to
things. Like when I had my braces. They hurt the first day but a few days later I didn't even notice them. And there we were, acting as if knowing a girl from a myth was perfectly normal.
“You look nervous,” Ethan whispered to me.
“Understatement of the year,” I said. How do you introduce yourself to a parent? It's supposed to be the other way around. “What if he doesn't want to talk to me?”