The Eternity Key (32 page)

After my second duet with Lexie, she and I exit stage left, and I check my cell phone, which I’ve stashed on the props table. Either it isn’t working because of the interference with the sound system, or Dax isn’t back yet as he thought he would be. I know from watching the play over and over again that we are only minutes away from the moment when Daphne will be swept away to the island. Only minutes from her going for the Eternity Key.

Will Dax be there to meet her? Or will she find herself alone?

I need to find a way to get a message to her. I peer through the curtains. She’s already taking her place on the platform. Too far for me to get her attention; besides, she’s too focused as she sings to even notice me, short of my setting myself on fire and storming the stage.

For half a second, I contemplate it.

No. What I need is a messenger. A runner to meet her at the lake. To make sure Dax is there, or to tell her not to go through with getting the Key until I get there if he isn’t.

My first thought goes to Joe. He had already volunteered to be our messenger if something went wrong. I’d seen him backstage
during intermission; I could only hope he was still around. “Have you seen Joe?” I whisper to Lexie.

“Dressing room,” she whispers back, and then sweeps onto the stage for her big solo, expounding on the woe of those who oppose the will of the gods. That means I have three minutes and thirty-four seconds before I’m needed onstage—and only ten seconds until Daphne is swept away.

I push my way through the chorus members who wait in the wings and make my way toward the dressing room behind the stage just as I hear the crescendo of music and the gasps from the audience as Daphne is drawn seemingly magically across the lake on a mechanical platform, indicating her being sucked back into the underworld because of Orpheus’s folly.

“Where are you going?” I hear the stage manager whisper-shouting after me. “You’re needed on deck.”

I wave him off and throw open the dressing room door. I find Joe, but he’s in no condition to run to Daphne. He’s prostrate on the couch, seemingly asleep. My first instinct is to check his pulse, but as I lean over him, the smell of something acrid slaps me in the face. I pick up the opaque water bottle he’d been sipping nervously out of during intermission and sniff. It smells just as bad.

I shake my head in disgust. I’d actually believed Joe when he’d said he wanted to help protect Daphne. Maybe he’d believed it, too, when he said it.

I back out the door, searching for another option, while the stage manager whisper-yells at me again that I need to be out onstage. I want to tell him where he can shove his clipboard, and run for Daphne myself, but I also know that if I don’t go out onstage, then every one of our enemies waiting in the audience will know that something is up. They’ll descend on the place
where they know Daphne last went—the island—and our chance to get the Key will be blown, or worse yet, one of them may find a way to force her to get it for them.

But I can’t leave her there alone.

The stage manager grabs my arm. “Thirty seconds,” he hisses at me. I am about to shove him away when I see Garrick skulking in the curtains. He’s dressed in black like the other stagehands, holding a bag that contains the makeshift costume that is supposed to disguise him as Daphne. He was still dead set on not going with us, but had conceded to at least appear as Daphne onstage during curtain calls in exchange for the keys to Dax’s Roadster.

“Garrick,” I say, grabbing his attention. “Garrick, please, I need your help.”

chapter forty-seven

When the play ends and the curtain pulls shut in front of me, I hear the audience burst into uproarious applause. I didn’t expect any less. The play had been absolutely amazing.

The rest of the cast rushes the stage, ready to take their bows when the curtain opens again. Haden pushes through the incoming crowd, going the wrong way. He’d come stumbling onstage—the only hitch in the whole production—almost as if he’d been pushed by the stage manager a full ten seconds late for his last solo, and he looks even more flustered now.

“What’s going on?” I ask him as he approaches. “Where’s Garrick? He’s supposed to be taking Daphne’s place, isn’t he?”

“He’s not coming. I sent him to the grove to catch Daphne.”

“Why?”

“Can’t talk now. I have to get to her.” He rushes off the stage. I try to follow him but slam into one of the girls from the chorus. We trip over each other, and by the time I’ve untangled myself, the curtain is rising again. In a choreographed move, the cast grabs hands and takes a bow. Then they raise their hands to applaud as Lexie moves to the front of the stage to take her bow with Haden
as the king and queen of the underworld, only Haden isn’t there. Lexie glances nervously at me but then sweeps down low in a bow and pops back up, blowing kisses to the audience, as if reveling in her solo time at the front of the stage.

The applause grows louder, and I know that I am supposed to take my bow with Daphne now. Or at least Garrick disguised in layers of veils, pretending to be Daphne. I follow Lexie’s lead and take the front of the stage alone. It’s hard to see past the stage’s lights, but as I dip down for my bow, I see that the seats that Terresa and Calix had been occupying in the second row are empty. I have no idea how long they’ve been gone.

I step away to the side of the stage, clapping my hands with the other somewhat bewildered-looking actors. “Where are Daphne and Haden?” one of the chorus guys asks me. I shrug like I don’t care and keep on clapping as Mr. Morgan takes the stage for his bows. He sweeps his arms out toward the front of stage left, where Joe Vince is supposed to rise out of the faux mist for his standing ovation. Only he doesn’t appear.

Now everyone is confused, including the audience. As Mr. Morgan calls for an ovation of the band, I notice movement toward the edge of the audience and see Rowan making his way out of the crowd. Crap. He must know something’s up.

The actor next to me grabs my hand and we all step forward for one final bow. As soon as he lets go, I bolt from the stage. I’m heading to a backstage exit when Joe comes stumbling from the dressing room. “Did I miss my cue?” he slurs. I don’t bother to answer as he grabs on to the doorframe to steady himself.

I keep running, exit the school, and head for the jogging trails that will take me to the grove. I know I’m not supposed to go near
the grove tonight, but Terresa’s timing is off. She shouldn’t have left already.

Something is going to go terribly wrong
.

chapter forty-eight

The mechanical pulley system that drags the floating platform to the island is faster than I remember its being in rehearsals. I brace myself, trying not to topple into the water, and in what feels like barely any time at all, I am almost to the island. The platform stops suddenly, a few feet short of the shore. I stomp on the platform a couple of times, thinking it’s gotten caught on something, but it doesn’t budge. “Dax?” I call out in a loud whisper, hoping he can pull me to shore.

When he doesn’t answer, I call again.

I’d thought he was supposed to be waiting for me on the shore, but perhaps I am mistaken and he is waiting in the grove.

Hiking my white flowing dress up around my knees, I wade into the lake. The shock of the cold water on my legs makes my heart race. Or maybe that’s just the anticipation of what is supposed to come next. The hem of my dress is soaked, and I’m shivering when I make it to shore.

My shoes, white ballet flats, squish into the sand. I look up at the steep, rocky, tree-lined hill I have to climb to get to the grove. Dax was also supposed to bring a change of shoes for me and I find myself wishing I’d been able to sneak a pair of hiking boots
under my costume. Then again, the heavy Compass tucked into my secret pocket already creates enough bulk.

I look back at the amphitheater on the other side of the lake. I can hear the strains of music from the new song that Joe had added to give me the extra time I need to get to the Key, which means I’m already a few minutes behind schedule because of the platform malfunction. No use wasting more time shivering in the dark.

I can only hope Dax is waiting for me in the grove.

I climb the hill as quickly as possible, slipping just twice in my wet shoes. I make it to the grove, expecting to apologize to Dax for being late, only he isn’t here. I cast about, calling his name softly—but urgently. No answer.

Crap. What am I supposed to do now?

Get the Key? Or wait longer?

Another couple of minutes pass by, and I am still alone. The Compass, in my wet dress, feels like it’s weighing me down. I reach into my pocket, my fingers brushing over Joe’s sobriety coin, and pull the Compass out.

I hear a rustle of bushes just beyond Orpheus’s tree.

“Daphne?” Someone calls my name, but it isn’t Dax who enters the grove. It’s Garrick. He looks over his shoulder like he’s worried he’s being followed.

“What’s going on? Where’s Dax?”

“He isn’t coming. Or he’s going to be late. I don’t really know,” he says, looking a bit panicked.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“There wasn’t really time for explanations,” Garrick says. “Haden sent me to come find you. Dax disappeared or something?”

“Disappeared?”

“Or he’s just late. I said, I don’t know.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know.”

Fine messenger he is. “Then why did Haden even send you?”

He glowers at me.

“I guess we stick with the plan,” I say, yanking at my hair. “Come on, we have to get the Key.”

“Don’t you think we should wait?” Garrick says, looking over his shoulder again.

“Hear that?” I ask, indicating the cheers and applause in the distance. “The play just ended. We’ve got to get the gate open so we can pass through it before Haden gets here. We need to space enough time between us so he can follow.”

I wrap my fingers around the Compass and approach Orpheus’s tree.

“We?” Garrick asks, following me. “I’m just the messenger. I’m not going through the gate. And I am not going back to the Pits. Wait for Dax.”

“Maybe he’ll get here in time to help us, but we can’t wait.”

I try placing the Compass in the knot at the base of the vibrating tree, and it sticks. “Stop being a pansy,” I growl at him—and then feel immediately guilty. I change tactics. “You say you don’t want to go into the Pits because you hate the Keres so much. But instead of running away, why don’t you help us get rid of them? Stand up for yourself. Don’t you think it would be good to finally destroy the soul-sucking monsters that ruined your life?”

Garrick ducks his head so I can’t see his face. He has no inner song at the moment—or pretty much ever—so I find it impossible
to read him. I don’t know if it’s a gesture of resignation to his fear or his acknowledging that I’m right.

I twist the Compass so the symbols on it line up with the symbols that are scratched into the tree’s knot, and then give it a good whack with the heel of my hand. It slides into place with an odd-sounding click, and the symbols on the Compass light up with an ethereal glow. The vibration of the tree shifts into a steady, thrumming pulse, shaking the ground under my feet.

“Now what?” Garrick asks.

“Now I think I sing to it.” I place my hands on the roots of the tree, soaking in the tone of its pulse. I start with a hum, finding the right pitch, and then begin to sing the words from the scroll. They’re etched into my memory from how many times I’ve read it over. I just hope the tree will accept my English translation, since I am not sure I can sing the phonetically spelled-out Greek version that Haden made for me.

As I sing, the Compass begins to turn slowly back and forth inside the knot. It reminds me of a spinning combination lock. The symbols grow brighter. As I finish the song, the tree shudders, and a seam of light slits up its middle, lighting up the grove as if it were afternoon. So much for staying incognito. The crack of light grows wider and brighter as the tree peels itself open. The light is so bright now, I have to hold my hand in front of my eyes, and I step away from the tree.