Prophecy of the Most Beautiful (37 page)

*****

"I have failed, my queen," Hecate said, her red eyes dimmed in shame. She cracked her whip and her accompanying hellhounds scampered off into the darkness.

The queen did not respond for quite some time. She stood there, amongst her garden, dressed in her customary black gown of silk and damask. Her skin was pale as the wind and her hair was wild and black as death. The queen felt like death, she always felt like death, but in her garden, she felt alive. Maybe it was because it was the only place where much of anything was alive in this deadland she was forced to call home.

She walked the circular path of her garden and admired a few of her favorites. There was the Asphodelos, with its ghostly grey flowers and edible roots. The Asphodel was plenty and grew all over her homeland as a primary food source for its inhabitants. There was Krithê––barley––a favorite of her mother's. In the time they spent together, they would drink barley, honey and mint daily and at home, the queen used it in her ale and ambrosia. The Krokos, which made saffron for spicing foods, was her favorite flower of all. In her younger years, she and her many companions would spend hours picking Krokos, purple Agallis, blue Hyakinthos, violets and lilies in the meadows of her childhood home. Those were the days when her life had been filled with happiness and laughter. Time had passed and she had almost forgotten how to even smile.

She turned to the center and glared upon the fruited tree planted there. It was an insult to her to have the tree of her shame planted right in the center of her beloved garden. But her lord and master had insisted. Of course, it wasn't his shame; it was his trophy. He had taken her under it that fateful day so many moons ago. Had taken her with as much violence and contempt as befit him, and all against her will. That day, she became his for all eternity and not even her father had been able to save her from such a fate.

"You have failed," the queen finally repeated, spitting in the black soil at the base of the tree. "That is what happens when you send dogs to do the work of the divine."

"My queen is right," Hecate replied. "I was foolish. I could have sent the godlings, but I did not wish to risk their lives. I do not have many, my queen, and with dissension brewing on Olympus, I feel there will be war soon. I will need them to fight beside me, whatever our role in it may be."

The queen did not care to hear about preserving the lives of godlings since she didn't have any of her own, godling or pure born. "But the fallen star was in the company of the Oracle Pythia, was he not?"

"He was, my queen.”

“
And the Most Beautiful?” Hecate only shook her head.

“
Borno had secured the star…until he was cut down by the half-breed Sun Prince."

The queen sat down on the stone wall surrounding the tree of her shame. "So your most beloved hound saw an honorable end, courtesy of that cursed Son of Apollo."

"Yes, my queen. As was the Scorpion."

“
Such a waste.”

Hecate dropped to the ground beside her. "Allow me to avenge him, my most loyal hound, and return to you what is rightfully yours. I will find the fallen star and lay the Most Beautiful at your feet. I would see the Black queen happy again, whatever I must do."

The queen's dark eyes gazed upon Hecate. "Whatever your observations have concluded, I have not been happy since I roamed the meadows of my youth and I do not seek happiness now. I strive only in this matter to regain what is mine."

"And I wish to give it to you."

But the queen shook her head. "We will not waste precious moments reliving your failure. I will deal with Pythia alone. I have another mission for you."

"Whatever you wish, my queen."

The queen reached into the bodice of her gown and pulled out a nugget of pure onyx, otherwise known as the black magic. "Find the Ker, Nicolai, and give him this." She placed the onyx in Hecate's waiting hand. "If he is still true to form and can be bought by the highest bidder, he will abandon his current endeavor to hunt down the Oracle and become an agent of mine instead."

Hecate could not hide her disappointment at being replaced. "But if it is Pythia you would have found, why not let the Ker keep his path? There are many who seek her."

"But I wish to hunt another, young goddess. Before it is too late."

"Who, my queen? Who would you see captured instead of Pythia?"

The queen looked at her, her pale skin almost translucent, and smiled. Then she rose, picked a Krokos flower for her hair, and disappeared into the darkness.

*****

XXVII. Chloe

Chloe woke up to four very confused faces staring down at her.

Lifting her head up off of the desk she was laying across, she rubbed her eyes, leaned back into her chair and tried to search her foggy mind for how she had ended up there.

"We didn' know you were such an artist," Ace mumbled, pointing at a canvas sitting on the easel next to the desk.

Blinking away the sleep, she looked. And screamed.

Indeed, there was a painting there. It was quite the detailed creation of an exquisitely terrifying creature with the repulsive hulking, veiny body of a man and the head of a bull with horns that could smash through a concrete wall if provoked, easy. It was standing in some sort of dark corridor, its huge body filling up the entire space as it poised to attack. It was some pretty scary crap to see.

"Who––I––," She looked down at her paint covered hands and clothes and sucked in a breath. Used paintbrushes lay scattered in front of her. "I couldn't have done this. I can barely scribble out stick figures, let alone, paint!"

"From the looks of it, you can paint, wan," Strafford said, his expression hard as stone, "And you're pretty good at it too."

"But…
how
?"

"Tha's not the question we need answerin'. The question is
why
?"

"I don't know!"

"You most likely dreamed it," Swindle said, leaning forward to get a better look at the painting. Dropper moved to do the same, commenting that the painting was fantastic.

"I had a dream, but that thing wasn't in it!"

"Could have been an entirely different dream. Oracles dream
a lot
."

"I only had one."

"That you remember," Swindle replied, glancing between her and Strafford, "Your mind has many layers, so you dream in spectrums. Some nights you'll dream all night long. Others not at all. You can even have simultaneous dreams. Might be the case here, which could be why you don't remember it. Instead, your mind gave you an outlet." He gestured at the painting. "You didn't want to forget."

Strafford squatted beside her. He seemed really distraught. Not something she was used to seeing on him. "But I need you to try to remember, Red. Try to remember wha' you dreamed abou' the Minotaur."

Hearing the name was like a trigger, and she saw it all. It was simply terrifying. A gruesome scene that she would never forget.

She looked down to find her knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of the desk so hard.

"It eats…
people
," She gasped.

"Aye." Strafford's tone was gritty. "Now why did you dream this?"

"Bro," Ace said, stepping forward, "Stop it."

"Tell me, Red."

"It eats
people.
"

"I
know
tha'. Tell me wha' you've seen!"

"Stop it, Strafford."

For some unfathomable reason, Strafford listened. But it was clear that it took everything in him not to grab her shoulders and shake it out of her. Not that she could have given him any explanation. She had no idea why she would have dreamed about the Minotaur. She knew what it was. An ancient half-human, half-bull monstrosity born of a union between the Queen of Crete and a bull...who had really been Poseidon, the god of the Seas, in another form.
Weird.
But as to why she would have dreamed about it was a mystery.

Strafford rose. "Summon Iris," He ordered his little brother, "Send the paintin' to the Chateau. Address it to Mystic and no one else." Ace got right on it and with his anger barely in check, Strafford began to walk away.

"I know who sent Hecate," She said.

Everyone froze. "Who?" Ace questioned.

"The Black Queen."

Looks were exchanged. Strafford squatted beside her again. "Persephone?"

"Is she the Black Queen?" He nodded it was. "Then yes, it's Persephone, and she wants Dropper, too." From the Knowledge, she knew Persephone was Hades' wife, and that made things even more confusing––the
last
thing she needed them to be.

This dream had been different. With the first one––the one with the crazy beautiful woman with the floor-length hair––she had been an observer. She had only known what she could see. But with this one, she could
feel
what was happening. She had shared their emotions and understood their thoughts. It was strange and unsettling, and she knew deep inside that it was a sign of her mind's power growing even stronger, and she wasn't quite sure she was ready for that.

But she was worried more about what the dream meant for her prophecy. Did Persephone, not Hades, have something to do with Varney attacking them at the Chateau? Who did Persephone want dead if not her, and why that insane Ker, Nicolai? Why was Persephone after Dropper, too? Did she want this Most Beautiful object as well and knew he was the key to finding it? Did…Chloe sighed to herself. There were just so many questions that needed answers, where to begin?

While the demigods discussed this new revelation, she went upstairs, washed the paint away, and dressed warmly––a maroon Marc Jacobs sweater, skinny jeans, and sheepskin
UGG
snow boots she had found in a walk-in closet full of designer clothes––and then joined the others downstairs at the table. The painting was long gone by this time, thank the gods, and breakfast was being eaten. Dropper was reading a book to Bill and sharing his bacon with him at the same time. Swindle and Ace were speaking to each other in whispers over stacks of waffles. She sat by Strafford and though there was so much to be said, they didn't talk.

He didn't interrogate her about her undiscovered painting talent.

She didn't question it either. It creeped her out.

He didn't ask her anything more about the Minotaur, though she could tell he wanted to push the subject.

She didn't inquire as to why he seemed so affected by it. He was shivering he was so mad. Strafford Law didn't shiver.

It was hard leaving the cabin. Chloe was perfectly content to stay there forever, but knew she couldn't hide there and fulfill a prophecy too. If they were going to find the Most Beautiful and figure out the mystery behind Dropper's fall from the sky, they had to move. Besides, she didn't want to make it
too
easy for the people hunting them.

The daytime had brought on an even drearier cold than the night before. The wind whipped through the trees faster than hummingbirds in flight, and even Chloe's trendy new coat couldn't keep the wind from biting through. They had each packed a warm outfit and a coat for the journey, but had also brought along t-shirts and warm weather clothes. They had no idea when the weather would change again and wanted to be prepared for whatever.

The snow remained and the icy winds pursued them. They walked for hours in the semi-blizzard whipping through
Spritewood
, only breaking once for a quick meal underneath the shelter of a horn rock that protruded out of the ground creating a sort of awning over them. But with frost bite threatening, lunch didn’t last long.

As the sixth hour of hiking came to a close, the weather calmed down and so did Strafford. It stopped snowing and the wind ceased its constant whipping. It was still cold as Christmas, but it was more manageable. Strafford walked with his arm around her, not that she minded, and at one point she looked up at him and spotted a necklace hanging from around his neck––a gold locket she’d never noticed before now. Before she could get a good look at it, he saw her staring and stuffed it into the collar of his shirt.

During a break, she found him sitting against a tree with the locket open, gazing down at the picture of a pretty blonde girl with blue eyes and a charming smile that made Chloe instantly hate her.

“Who is she?” She asked, knowing she sounded jealous and despising herself for it.

Strafford snapped the locket shut and got to his feet. “Nobody.” Looping the necklace over his head, he stepped around her and headed back over to the others. She hated admitting it to herself, but she’d seen the way he’d been looking at that girl and knew, without a doubt, that he loved her.
A lot.
Refusing to pity herself, she held her head high and was at the head of the pack when they started hiking again, rather than in the back, sucking down sobs.

Several hours later, they found themselves standing outside of another cabin with a sign in front of it that read:
Yellowstone National Park Ranger Services
. They kept hidden among the trees that surrounded the clearing even though the place was deserted except for a couple of park ranger pickup trucks and an old sedan. Chloe frowned, confused. Yellowstone National Park was in…

"We must've somehow crossed back over into the mortal world," Swindle said, looking around, "We're on Earth." She could tell it frustrated him that he couldn't explain why and she knew his brain was churning trying to figure out when it had happened.

"Sometimes I swear the Fates have it out for me," Strafford grumbled, but quickly took charge of their change in circumstances. "Swindle, get those trucks runnin'," He ordered. "Ace, go inside and distract those rangers." He paused. "Dropper. Use those bloody twinklin' eyes for somethin' other than starin' down Red. Alert us if someone else shows up." Dropper smirked and bowed his head. Everyone departed to complete their tasks. That left Chloe and Strafford alone with Bill in a tree nearby.