Anne Ursu: The Shadow Thieves

"Brad?" he prompted. "What do we know about Hades?"

"Um… it's hot," said Brad meekly.

Wrong, thought Charlotte.

"Wrong," said Mr. Metos. "Hades is nothing like the hell we know and love. So when someone says something is hotter than Hades, that's really not saying much. This gets to my next question. Who goes to Hades?… Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth- a natural blonde-was one of those students who had gotten by her entire school career without ever saying a word, so this year whenever she was called on, she turned a most curious shade of magenta. "Ummm," she whispered, "bad people?"

Wrong, thought Charlotte.

"Wrong," said Mr. Metos. "Everyone goes to the underworld after death. In Greek mythology there is no heaven or hell. Everyone goes to the same place. Once there, great heroes are led to the Elysian fields, great villains are doomed to various kinds of torment. But most of us just sort of hang out in the world of the shadows. What happens when you die, does anyone know? Enid?"

"You go to heaven!" squeaked Enid.

Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"I mean in Greek mythology Enid," said Mr. Metos drily. "Do you know?"

Enid knit her eyebrows together uncomprehendingly and shook her head.

"When you die, the messenger god Hermes leads your spirit into the underworld. There the ferryman, Charon, takes you across into the world of the dead-if you can pay. The Greeks always buried their dead with a coin under their tongue. If you don't have a coin, you have to find the paupers' entrance into Hades. Once you're taken across, you're never to return."

And so he went on, talking of King Hades himself and of the underworld, while Charlotte's mind drifted a little, floating around in space until it ended up somewhere very near her kitten, where it stayed for some time.

"Charlotte?" Mr. Metos's voice cut through her reverie. Charlotte jumped.

"Huh?"

"Ms. Mielswetzski," he said languidly, "do you know how Queen Persephone came to live in the underworld?"

Charlotte closed her eyes and opened them again. She took a deep breath. She did know, and she would be able to tell the whole class if only Mr. Metos would stop looking at her. "Hades, um, kidnapped Persephone from Earth," she said quietly. "He opened up the ground and just took her."

Mr. Metos smiled. It was a strange sort of smile, one that only his mouth participated in. His eyes still looked stern. "And then what happened?"

"Well"- Charlotte gulped-"her mom was a goddess. The goddess of the harvest."

"Demeter. Yes. Keep going, Charlotte."

“And, um, she was so sad about her daughter that she wouldn't let any grain grow, so the people starved. And so Zeus told Hades he'd have to let Persephone go. But Hades tricked Persephone into eating some pomegranate seeds, so she had to stay."

"That's right. Once you've eaten the food of the dead, you are bound to the underworld. But Zeus didn't want the people to starve. So he worked out a compromise. For six months Persephone would stay on Earth with her mother, and since her mother was happy, the earth would bloom. And for six months Persephone has to live in the underworld, and during that time nothing grows on Earth. That is why we have seasons." He rubbed his hands together, then nodded toward Charlotte. "Very good," he said. Then he turned away. "Now, there are several stories of mortals going into the underworld and coming out again. It's a bit of a rite of passage in epic tales. Can anyone name one? Eric?"

Charlotte exhaled deeply. She hadn't spoken so much in this class all year, and she hoped she would not have to again. All of the kids were looking at her like she was some kind of redheaded supergeek. It wasn't like that at all; she was just a redhead who'd had a book when she was a kid. Jeez.

That night Charlotte had the strangest dream. She was running through a field by herself, on the most beautiful day the world had ever made. And then suddenly she heard a loud cracking sound. It went on and on. And then the earth began to open. A man appeared in front of Charlotte- or something very like a man- a very tall, thin man in a tuxedo, with yellow eyes and white skin. And he lunged toward Charlotte and she started to run, but everywhere she went, the earth opened up in front of her. And then there was nowhere left to run. The man-like man grabbed her and jumped into the great, dank chasm. And then she was falling, and she heard a rumbling, and the earth closed up, and all was dark.

When she woke up, she said, "That was the strangest dream."

"Meow," said the kitten. For the next week the Mielswetzskis busied themselves with preparing for Zachary's arrival. Mrs. Mielswetzski spent several days de-girling the guest room-taking down the fluffy curtains, stripping the bed of the flowered sheets and comforter, and replacing it all with a nice masculine taupe. "We want your cousin to feel at home," she said firmly. Charlotte thought that with the huge grown-up bed and the big private bathroom, Zachary would probably do just fine.

Charlotte's mother seemed to be getting more and more nervous as the day approached, and she spent her time constantly questioning Charlotte about her behavioral plans.

"You'll be nice to your cousin?" asked Mrs. Mielswetzski.

"Of course, Mom," said Charlotte.

"You'll show him around school?"

"Of course, Mom," said Charlotte.

"You'll introduce him to your friends?"

"Of course, Mom," said Charlotte.

"You'll help him catch up in his classes?"

"Of course, Mom," said Charlotte.

"I mean, you'll be really nice, Charlotte. You'll really try hard?"

"Mom!" said Charlotte.

"Because sometimes you can be a little, well, prickly"

“Mom!” said Charlotte.

"Well, honey…"

Despite the fact that her own mother thought she was prickly, Charlotte felt that life was distinctly looking up, and perhaps she would not run away and catch a boat to Paris quite yet. Bartholomew had taken to sleeping on her bed, and that's all she really needed out of life. The kitten had charmed her mother and father, too-she spent her evenings sleeping in the lap of one or the other, when she wasn't doing a mad dash around the perimeter of the house. She had the strangest habit of running to the dining room, leaping on the table, skidding all the way across on the slick surface, and flying off, front arms spread out like a kitten superhero. She walked over tables, dressers, credenzas, bookshelves, weaving in and out of Mielswetzski vases, photos, and other decorative accessories, sometimes avoiding them, sometimes leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. At about four in the morning she would start pouncing on Charlotte's feet, meowing loudly and gnawing on her toes. Charlotte would get out of bed, pick the kitten up, put her in the hallway, and regretfully shut the door behind her.

The Mielswetzskis were of a mind to think all this sleeplessness and destruction was cute, as is constitutionally required of a kitten owner, and every night when the family sat down to dinner, Charlotte's mother would say, "Well, no one called about Bartholomew today"

And her father would say, "I didn't hear anything either."

"But it's early yet," her mother would add quickly.

"That's true. We mustn't get too attached," her father would agree.

And Charlotte would smile, listening to the sound of Mew's feet prancing through the living room.

At night she would get in bed next to her kitten and whisper, "Now, Mew, are you going to be nice to my cousin?"

"Meow," said Mew.

"Are you going to introduce him to your kitten friends?"

"Meow," said Mew.

"You'll help him catch up in his kitten classes?"

"Meow," said Mew.

“Are you sure? You can be a bit fuzzy sometimes."

"Meow," said Mew.