The Gatekeeper's Challenge (23 page)

Therese clamped her mouth shut to keep it from hanging open and blinked several times to prevent her eyes from widening with surprise. Instead, she clasped her hands nervously behind her back. “Thanks, Meg. That’s nice of you to say.”

“As a token of my apology, I’ve brought you a gift.”

“Have you come to tell me how to find Erebus?”

“No. Better.” On either side of Meg, Therese’s parents appeared, standing on top of the water, and smiling at Therese.

“Mom? Dad?” Therese stood in shock, her mouth agape without restraint. After a moment, she stumbled to the edge of the water, reaching out toward them, beyond excited by their presence. “It it really you?”

“Therese!” her mother cried out as she dashed to the bank and took her daughter in her arms.

Therese’s father was close behind, enveloping the two of them in his warm embrace. “We’ve missed you so much.”

Tears of joy sprang from Therese’s eyes. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. I’ve missed you like crazy. Does this mean I’m allowed to be with you again? When I complete the challenges, will we be together again?”

“I think so,” her mother said. “But listen. There’s something I need to tell you.”

Therese looked at her mother with longing, breathing in her scent of
Jergen’s lotion and Haiku perfume. It lingered on her still. Therese was incredulous, absolutely in disbelief that her mother’s arms held her again. And she felt warm, supple, alive—not cold, not lifeless. Her body felt like it always had when her mother had held her, rocked her as a child, sang to her on nights she couldn’t sleep.

Her mother stroked Therese’s hair. “We once told you we didn’t want any more children, but that wasn’t true.”

“Really? I don’t understand. If you wanted more kids, why didn’t you…”

“We tried,” her father said. “We tried and couldn’t. So we were in the process of adopting. We were going to surprise you.”

“Oh my gosh. I almost had a little brother or sister?”

“Almost, sweetie pie,” her mother said. “And when we died, we wished more than ever that we hadn’t left you alone.”

“But I’ve had Carol.”

“Of course.
Thank goodness for her,” her father said.

Her father’s face looked exactly as it always
had, his brown eyes warm, his smile gentle. She leaned in and smelled him, the musk of his cologne. The blankets on his bed and the clothes in her parents’ closet had held that smell for months. Oh, how she missed it.

“I just wanted you to know.” Her mother squeezed her tight. “I wanted you to know that we did try. Your father knew what it was like to be an only child, and it was important to him to give you pets and to keep trying.”

“It’s so nice to be with you again,” her father said.

“You have your complete memory back, then?” First she took her father’s face in her hands and examined it. “You remember everything about your past, the accident, me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he said. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Therese then took her mother’s face between her hands and studied her mother’s expression, felt her warm breath against her face.
“Mom? You, too? You remember everything about our lives?”

“Oh, Therese!
How could I forget? You’re my most precious little girl!”

Therese wrapped an arm around each of her parent’s waists and huddled there between them. “Once I marry Than, I’ll spend every day with you. We’ll be together again, like we used to be. Even Clifford can come. I can’t wait! I can’t wait to be wi
th you like we used to be. Oh, Mom! Dad!” Tears fell rapidly down her cheeks and she thought she would burst with joy.

As she glanced back at Meg to thank her, something strange happened: Therese’s hand fell from her arm and plopped onto the bank of the water. Then her ear slipped off the side of her face. “What’s happening to me?” She screamed in terror. “I’m falling apart!”

Her parents picked up her hand and her ear and tried desperately to reattach them to her body, but they couldn’t. Then the other ear slipped from her head, and she could no longer hear anything. “I’m falling to pieces,” she said, just as a few teeth loosened in her mouth, and she had to spit to keep from choking on them. Holding tightly to her parents, she dreaded the new realization coming over her.

“No!” she screamed. “No! This isn’t a dream! It can’t be!” She wrenched her arms more tightly around her parents, even though a part of her knew they were silly, stupid figments.

She opened her eyes to find herself on Than’s bed, and sitting on a golden chair looking at her was Hades, god of the Underworld.

“The human mind is an interesting thing,” he said. “You not only reconstructed your original family, making it intact once again, but you also added an addition, so that the next time around—there really isn’t a next time around, but humor me, will you?—so that the next time around you wouldn’t be left alone. Your mind wants to correct what you perceive to be your parents’ mistake: they should have given you a sibling, so when they died, you wouldn’t be left alone.
”

“But I have Carol…and Richard. And there’s Clifford and Jewels.”

“Yes, yes, well. Good for you. But your mind longs for a more intimate connection to your parents, am I right?”

Therese sat up and stared blankly at the god, not sure if he was mocking her or sympathizing. “I suppose.”

“You might find it interesting to know that they were not interested in having more children. In fact, though they loved and treasured you, they conceived you by mistake. Immediately after your birth, your mother had her tubes tied. She and your father never intended to have children because they worried their careers would take too much time away from parental responsibilities.”

Therese felt her face go pale, her stomach queasy.

“They loved you dearly, of course, and never regretted having you. I’m giving you this information because I want you to understand why they didn’t have more children.”

“Because they never intended to have any.”

“But they loved you. Remember that.”

She nodded, wishing he hadn’t told her she’d been a mistake.

“Listen to me, Therese, because I’ve said this many, many times to many, many mortals, and it always seems to go in one ear and out the other—hence your ears being among the first parts of your body to fall off in your dream. Interesting symbolism. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She frowned.

“I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said this. Even the gods don’t know how many. Once a mortal dies, he or she cannot come back, though there have been rare exceptions. This means that, should you succeed in the fifth challenge—and we’re all rooting for you now, dear girl, really, we are. You’re performance has been impressive. A pleasant surprise. So, should you succeed in the fifth challenge, you will not be reunited with your parents as you dreamed. They are happy in the Fields of Elysium, but believe me when I tell you they do not remember you. Their memories have left them and cannot be restored. Look at me, Therese.”

Therese, who had looked away to fight tears, forced herself to meet his eyes. She was surprised to see kindness, compassion, and acceptance. As he tugged his curly, black beard, his dark eyes bore into hers like those of her swim team coach, of her spelling bee sponsor, of her own mother and father—of every adult who had ever advised or counseled her. He wanted her to succeed.

“I want to warn you about a few characters whose paths you may cross on your journey to Erebus. Each of the five rivers is inhabited by at least one nymph, and they are mischievous creatures who will try to distract you. Pay them no mind, but be polite. If offended, they can impede you.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“In addition to the nymphs, there are other daemons that dwell here. You’ve met my daughters, the Furies. The Fates are also here, though they will not likely try to speak with you. Usually mortals wish to seek them out to bribe them into changing their destinies.”

“Can they do that?”

“Not without a price that’s usually too difficult to pay.”

Therese swallowed hard.

“I also have a vulture, Euronymus, who flies though the tunnels coming and going. He strips the flesh from the uneaten human corpses. He won’t bother you, but he may screech by and bulldoze you down—he’s as big as you are—so be on the lookout. Ascalaphus, my owl, may also screech or hoot as he flies about the caverns. He’s friendly. No worries there. And, of course, there are other creatures that lurk here—bats, spiders, snakes, and such.”

“I’m not afraid of them.” She was elated by how obvious it was that he really did hope she would succeed, but she didn’t dare smile. He frightened her still.

“One more thing, Therese. Every mortal whom I have ever allowed to descend down here to speak with the dead has been told to return to the land of the living without looking back. I ask this of them as a sign of trust. Orpheus, above them all, seemed the most likely to succeed. Of them all, I thought he had a chance. But at the last minute, he, like everyone before and after him, suspected me of cheating him, of tricking him in some way. He looked back to make sure I was keeping my end of the bargain. Believe me when I tell you I was disappointed. Crushed, really. I loved Orpheus. His music filled me with happiness. I tell you this because you and Than seem confident that the challenges are essentially over. All you have to do is journey down to Erebus and apologize to Vicki Stern. Then you must turn back to the gates, board Charon’s raft, and allow him to return you to the Upperworld. That all sounds easy, but here’s the rub: You shall not look back. Do you hear me? Ares will try to trick you, do you understand? I can do nothing to prevent his interference. You must not look back. In case I’m not being clear, let me say once more: YOU MUST NOT LOOK BACK. Do you understand?”

Therese nodded dumbly.

Hades rolled his eyes. “I doubt this little talk of ours has done any good. I can only hope. If I could take back the challenge I would, dear girl. But you must complete it. Are you ready?”

“Now?
Right now?”

“There’s no better time than the present, as they say.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m ready.”

“Follow the
Phlegethon—that’s the river of flames—until it crosses the Lethe. At that junction, turn right and follow the Lethe down to the edge of a deep cavern. If Charon comes by on his raft, you may ask him to take you into Erebus; otherwise, you will have to scale down the walls yourself. But you can do it. I’ve seen you climb. Once you apologize to Vicki, you can either catch the raft back, or, if you don’t want to wait for Charon, you’ll have to climb back up. Don’t come back this way, though. Follow the Lethe in the opposite direction, toward the Styx. Turn right at the Styx. It will take you to the main gate, where Cerberus sits on guard. Wait on the bank for Charon. He’ll take you on the raft by way of the Acheron. Although you’ll come out at what will look like the middle of a desert, don’t worry. If you succeed, I will fetch you myself and take you to Dionysus.”

“And if I fail?”

“If you fail because of mortal injury, you will stay here. The judges will determine precisely where. If you look back—and, please, Therese, don’t look back—then Hip will carry you home to Colorado, as you sleep.”

“I won’t look back.”

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Final Challenge

As Therese stepped through the wooden door of Than’s room—opening it, for it was solid, unlike it had been in her dream—she wished again Hades hadn’t told her the truth about her parents. She hated the idea that she’d been an inconvenience to them, a burden, even if, later, they loved her. Therese emerged into a tunnel similar to the one in her dream, and for a moment she worried, actually wished, it was another dream. If she were dreaming, then what Hades had said about her being an accident might not be true. She pushed off the ground with her feet, but landed squarely on her sneakers. Pinching herself brought no change. As far as she could tell, she wasn’t dreaming.

The tunnel opened onto a larger cavern, and as soon as Therese stepped inside, a coven of bats was disturbed and rushed in a whirlwind around her before making its escape through a tight opening above. The coven consisted of thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands, of small fruit bats similar to some she had seen once with her parents and grandparents at an abandoned train tunnel near San Antonio.

Hades had warned her there were creatures, but hundreds of thousands? Maybe Ares had multiplied them in an attempt to scare her. You’ll have to do better than that, Ares, she thought.

Had that been a thought or a prayer? What was the difference between the two, especially when one addressed a god? Hoping Ares had no privy to the thought, Therese hiked on along the river of fire. The last thing she needed was for the god of war to feel challenged.