Goddess in Time (9 page)

“Troy,” she says in a voice far sweeter than should be possible for someone as sour as Stella, “what is the Greek squad up to?”

“I—um—well—we—” Hazel eyes wide, he looks wildly around the room for help.

If I don't step in he's liable to spill the whole story.

“It's nothing, wicked witch,” I answer, trying to save him from more distress. “Go back to your evil castle and ask your monkeys to give you a makeover.”

Stella turns to me and flashes an unamused smile. “Always quick to his defense, rebel girl. Makes a girl wonder if you two are more than friends?”

Phoebe turns to stare wide-eyed at me. Griffin clears his throat and Troy studies the ceiling. Even though my heart is thumping in my chest, I force myself to stay calm on the outside.

“Did you need something?” I ask. “Or did you just come in here to interrogate us?”

“If I wanted to interrogate you,” she replies, “you'd know it. Now, tell me what's going on or I'll make the Spanish Inquisition look like tea with the queen.”

Phoebe, Griffin, and Troy all blurt out answers at once.

“We're planning a party.”

“It's a summer research project.”

“Book club.”

Stella shakes her head and keeps her focus on me. For several long moments we have a serious stare-down. Her gray eyes meeting my blue ones. It's part battle of wills and part battle of powers. I can tell she's trying to
psychospection
her way into my thoughts.

Don't even think about it,
I
psychodictate
back into her snobby blond head.

She arches one dark blond brow.

Tell me,
she says.

There's nothing to
—

Don't bother lying,
she interrupts.
I inherited my father's deception detector.

I suck in a tight breath, and scowl harder. If there are two things I know about Stella Petrolas it's that her mind-reading powers are unequaled and that when she smells a juicy secret she's like Cerberus with a freakin' bone. She won't back off until we come clean, and it'll be easier if we do it sooner rather than later.

Fine.

“We're trying to find a way into Hades.”

Phoebe gasps.

Griffin laughs.

Troy looks at me like I've lost my mind.

I probably have. I'm not sure why I decided it was easier to give in. Maybe because if I didn't she would probe my brain until she found out on her own. This at least gives me a chance at controlling the conversation.

Her only response is to ask, “Why?”

I stiffen my spine before answering. All in.

“Because I need ruby pomegranate seeds for an offering to Chronos.” When she tilts her head a fraction to the right, I add, “So I can travel back in time and stop my parents from getting banished.”

I clench my jaw.

As I watch Stella's reaction, I expect her to be outraged. To act all snooty and superior and then run tattle to her headmaster daddy, but not before she gives us a scathing lecture on breaking one of the unbreakable rules.

Scathing lectures are her favorite pastime.

I think we're all holding our breath.

If Stella turns us in, we'll all pay the price. It was a stupid move. I should have kept my mouth shut and just focused on blocking her out of my brain. We're all done for now.

After the longest silence of my life, Stella walks to the door. I shake my head, waiting for her to run to phone her father and tell on us.

Instead, she closes the door, turns back to face us, and says, “Without my help, you'll wind up rotting in an Olympic dungeon.”

“Or trapped in Hades for all eternity,” Troy offers.

I cut him a sharp scowl. Returning my attention to Stella, I sneer.
“You
want to help?”

When she nods, I turn to my friends for support.

They seem just as confused by her response as I am. The last thing I expected from Stella was an offer to help. But if she's offering, I'm not going to turn her down. We're at a dead end.

“Great.” I cross my arms over my chest. “If you have any brilliant ideas for finding a way
into
Hades, I'm all ears.”

“I don't,” she says, walking over to a chair in the corner of the room, “but I know someone who does.”

“Who?” I ask.

She grins. “My boyfriend.”

For the love of Zeus, why don't we involve the entire island in my superillegal quest? This is getting ridiculous. But if Stella thinks Xander Katara will have a solution, then let's add one more to the circle.

Honestly, I can't imagine anywhere I want to go
less
than Hades. Not for the normal reasons—the whole rotting, gloomy land-of-death-and-despair-that-I-might-never-come-back-from thing. No, Hades is at the top of my must-avoid list for one simple reason: Persephone.

She's pretty much an embarrassment to all womankind. What kind of vapid airhead gets herself trapped in the underworld because she can't help herself from popping a few pomegranate seeds for the journey home? Talk about lack of willpower.

Most of the world pities her. I think she's a moron.

I've never met the twit, but if her descendants are any indication she makes fruit flies look like geniuses. I sat next to one in Level 10 math, and let's just say that on a good day she could count to one hundred. A few of them have book smarts. None of them have the common sense the gods gave an olive tree.

“How is Xander going to help?” Phoebe asks, interrupting my less-than-generous thoughts as we wait for him and Stella to meet us at the entrance to the school stadium.

“He's a descendant of Narcissus,” Griffin says.

Phoebe shakes her head, still confused.

“When Hades wanted to bring Persephone into the underworld,” Troy explains, “he used Narcissus to lure her.”

“As his descendant,” I add, “Katara has insider info on exactly how Narcissus did that.”

“Huh.” Phoebe shrugs, as if she doesn't quite get it, but has gotten used to not understanding things in this world.

It's better that way. Most of this world isn't worth understanding.

“I still can't get used to the idea that Stella has a boyfriend,” Phoebe whispers.

“Katara's twisted,” I offer. “He has to be to put up with—”

“Good morning,” Stella's too-bright voice singsongs across the field.

As I turn to face her, I can tell she heard—or sensed—what I was about to say. It's a sign of her new, nonevil attitude that she doesn't comment.

“Hey, Phoebe,” Xander says as they walk up. “Nicole.”

Phoebe waves.

“Katara,” I reply.

It definitely takes a crazy person to willingly put up with Stella on a regular basis. She hasn't been entirely awful lately, but she's near the top of the high-maintenance scale. Judging from the way he looks at her, he's okay with that.

“You really want to go into Hades?” he asks me.

Want? Hardly. I'd rather endure a solid year of Headmaster Petrolas's detentions. But I will do anything to get my parents unbanished and Griffin's unsmoted. Anything. I would sentence myself to an eternity in the underworld if it means undoing my biggest mistake—my biggest regret.

“Yes,” I say. “I
really
want to go to Hades.”

“You're sure?” Troy asks.

I give him a stop-asking-stupid-questions look. He should be tired of asking them. I'm done having that debate.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Then I'll go with you.”

I say, “No,” at the same time Xander says, “No way.”

“Why not?” Troy asks Xander, ignoring me.

“Sorry, buddy,” Xander replies. “Family secret. It's a big enough no-no taking one outsider in.”

Troy deflates a little.

“You'll take care of her?” he asks, still talking to Xander. “You'll get her there and back in one piece?”

Griffin snorts with barely controlled laughter until Phoebe elbows him in the ribs.

I punch Troy in the arm. Since when do I need anyone to take care of me?

“I'll do my best,” Xander promises, so I punch him in the arm, too.

He's got a lot more muscle.

“Can we go already?” I ask as I shake out my fist.

Stella grabs Xander by the hand and pulls him into her arms. When their lips touch, I turn away from the don't-want-
that
-burned-into-my-memory display.

Troy steps in front of me.

“Be careful down there,” he says.

“I'll be fine,” I insist. “You know me—not even a Hesperian dragon can keep me down.”

I learned that lesson the hard way.

“I'm serious.” Troy steps even closer. “Come back to me in one piece.”

A sarcastic quip is on the tip of my tongue, but something about his tone makes me hold it in. Troy is a worrier, sure, but he's not usually so serious. So intense.

It's almost too much.

From the corner of my eye, I see Phoebe take Griffin's hand.

They're all worried about me. I get that. But they should know me well enough to believe that I won't let myself fail.

“I will be fine,” I say, pronouncing each word precisely, trying to assure myself as much as Troy. I jerk my head back over my shoulder. “Are they done yet?”

Troy peers around me. “Nope, not—oh, wait, I think they're—no, still going.”

“Very funny,” Stella says, coming to stand next to me.

He grins. “I thought so.”

I laugh.

His ability to laugh at himself is one of the reasons Troy and I are best friends. Too many people take the inconsequential stuff too seriously. He always lightens the mood.

“Let's do this thing,” Xander says.

“We'll be back”—I give Troy a helpless shrug—“as soon as we're back.”

He nods.

Xander holds out his hand. “Ready?”

“As I'll ever be,” I reply, flashing Troy one last smile.

I place my palm in Xander's and instantly we're no longer standing at the base of the stadium. We're in a beautiful green meadow full of small white flowers.

Xander gestures at the flowers. “Welcome to the family secret.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“This is the field of narcissus,” Xander explains, “that Hades planted to entrap Persephone. The flowers mark the location of a secret entrance to the underworld. An entrance that bypasses Chiron and the River Styx, direct to Hades's black palace.”

These beautiful flowers are really a signpost to the underworld? That's messed up.

Xander leads me forward, closer to the flowers.

“This is the door through which Hades first abducted the goddess of spring.” He steps into the center of the field of flowers. “And it's the door through which she leaves and returns each year.”

As he speaks, the green meadow and the blue sky melt away, replaced by dark stone and red glow. The overwhelming stench of decay can mean only one thing: we are in Hades.

T
he black palace stretches high above me, like a mountain of shadow. Boy, the god-kings sure don't scrimp on their royal residences. Although to be honest, if I had to live in the underworld I'd want to live in a freakin' mansion, too. Inside, it's supposed to be an escape from the surrounding world of
death.

“We have to find the Hall of Springtime,” I tell Xander. According to
Offerings to the Gods,
the ruby pomegranate seeds are inlaid within the mosaic wall that spans one side of the hall. It's supposed to be a beautiful scene of flowers and birds and animals and everything that represents springtime in the world above—a huge, artistic reminder for Persephone so she doesn't get too homesick during the nine months of every year she's stuck down here.

“How are we supposed to find it?” he asks. “This place is huge.”

None of the sketches in any of the books did this place justice. It's expansive. If I hadn't read so many descriptions or studied the one rough sketch of a map we found in an ancient scroll, I'd be intimidated.

“This is how.”

I pull a copy of the map I found out of my back pocket and scan the route Troy and I marked.

“We're somewhere near here,” I say, pointing to a small side entrance to the palace. “We just have to get inside, follow this red line, and we'll be out of here in no time.”

“That easy?” Xander asks, skeptical.

“Probably not,” I reply, stuffing the map back into my pocket. “But a little optimism never hurt anyone.”

I walk up to the normal-sized door, reach for the handle, and—despite my attempt to think positive—fully expect it to be locked. After all, why would breaking into Hades's palace be as simple as walking in?

When the handle turns and the door swings inside, I exchange a shocked look with Xander.

He shrugs. “Guess the optimism is working.”

“Or it's a trap.”

“Yeah,” he says, eying the hallway within. “Or that.”

Well, whatever the case, I'm not waiting around to find out. I want to get in, get out, and get back to the world above.

Pushing aside my concerns, I step through the doorway and into the palace. Nothing happens. No blaring alarms or three-headed dogs or even a squeaky floorboard. Nothing.

Looks like we're in the clear.

“Time to follow the red line,” I whisper.

I lead the way down the hall, making sure my boots don't squeak or clomp on the floor. Xander moves just as silently behind me. We reach the end of the narrow hallway without incident—without seeing another soul, living or dead. When the hallway opens onto a larger one, I peer around the corner both ways before declaring the coast clear.

As I hurry through this hallway, heading for the entrance hall that will lead to the ballroom that will lead to the Hall of Springtime, I notice the similarities—and differences—between this palace and the other two I've visited recently. In many ways it is just as opulent, with expensive finishes, priceless art, and classical touches everywhere. But where Mount Olympus was painted with gold and Poseidon's palace painted with silver, this palace seems to be painted with black. But not a normal black. The black accents gleam, like they're carved from shiny stone.