P. Hoover - Solstice

I think of Randy Conner. “Randy didn’t want to go, did he?”

Shayne shakes his head. “No. I crossed with him. It was pretty rough going at first. But once he got to the other side…well, it always changes.”

We reach the end of the tunnel, and ahead, I can already see the flickering from the fireplace inside Shayne’s home. Cerberus curls in front of the fire, and instead of sitting next to Shayne on the sofa, I plop myself on the ground next to Cerberus and start scratching between a couple of his ears. I feel Shayne’s eyes on me though I don’t turn to look at him.

“Did you miss me?” He tilts his head and pauses and waits for my answer.

I move my hand, scratching a different head. “I missed your dog.”

Shayne laughs and comes down to sit on the ground next to me. He touches my earlobe which causes a tingle somewhere which is definitely not my earlobe. And he pulls my ponytail holder out, letting my hair escape from its bonds.

“I’m glad you came back.”

My chest is tight, and I don’t dare look at him. I know I could melt into Shayne and let him absorb me forever. “I am, too.” I lean my back against him, and we sit there, me still scratching Cerberus, and Shayne running his hand through my hair. The fire never dies. It crackles and spits sparks into the air, and with the burnt aroma, I feel more like I’m in Heaven than Hell. And I never want to leave.

“Are you sure you want to see Asphodel? We could go back to the Elysian Fields. Rhadam’s been asking about you.”

Shayne’s words snap me out of the paradise I’m living. It’s not that I want to see Asphodel. I need to see it. I look at Shayne; his lips have pressed into a smile. “I’d take paradise forever,” I say. Here with him.

“Most people would, when given the choice.”

“But they don’t get a choice, do they?”

He shakes his head, and orange embers from the fire reflect off the blackness of his hair. “If they did, no one would choose Tartarus, would they?”

I consider this. “Maybe the really bad ones would. They might want a lifetime of torture.”

His eyes shift to the side for only a second, but I notice. “No one would choose that life, Piper. Trust me. To end up in Tartarus is like picking the short stick in life. Or death, as the case might be. And the worst part is it lasts forever. There’s no getting out.”

I sit up. “Never?”

“Never. There are two basic rules down here. Once a person has been judged, they stay where they are placed forever.”

Like Randy Conner. Stuck forever in Asphodel. But I’m not ready to accept this yet. “And the second?” I ask.

“No one can ever leave the Underworld.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Except the exceptions of course,” I say. “And me.”

Shayne rolls his eyes. “I’m not talking about you. You haven’t died. Not to mention you came here by your own choice, and you are my guest.”

His guest. I like that. “Too bad.” I’m joking, but only kind of. “If I couldn’t leave, I’d have to stay here forever. And my mom couldn’t do anything about it.”

Shayne’s face tightens, and it looks like I’ve made him mad.

“What? I’m only kidding.”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

But my mind tells me I should know why he’s upset. “What did I say wrong?”

“Wrong?” Shayne stands up. “You didn’t say anything wrong.” He walks away from the fireplace—away from me. I watch his feet step across the red and black mosaic floor—the floor I love as if I’ve created it myself.

I stand up and follow him. He reaches a table set against the far wall. It’s black wood, buffed to such a high polish, I can see his reflection in it. A picture hangs overhead, oil painted on canvas, with souls and angels and demons and Hell partitioned into regions with rivers flowing throughout. “Then why are you upset?” I ask.

Shayne turns and leans against the table which rocks under his weight. All at once, his eyes shift. Flickering, but so fast they’re like sparks in a fire. Like the air around him could ignite if he wanted it to. He’s holding a helmet of some sort. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s made to cover only the crown of the head, and it shines of pure gold.

He holds it out to me, and the air crackles around him and it. “Piper, do you know what this is?”

My breath catches in my throat. I do. I know exactly what it is. I’ve seen this object many times before, but I don’t remember any of them. “It’s the Helm of Darkness.”

Shayne’s face relaxes as if the weight of the helmet has been removed from his head. “Yes. It’s the Helm of Darkness.”

My mind forms the words for me. “It makes its wearer invisible.”

Shayne nods and turns, setting it back on the table. “Do you know who I am?” He turns back when he says it, and it looks like he’s going to take a step closer to me, but he doesn’t.

My feet feel planted in the ground; I can’t move. “Shayne. You’re Shayne.”

“And…?”

I take a deep breath. I’m not sure why I have a hard time saying it—even to myself. “You’re Hades. Lord of the Underworld.”

Shayne’s eyes bore into me, and I take a step back without even thinking about it. “And who are you?” he says.

I don’t know who I am. I want to be someone else, but I’m not sure who. Someone who lives a life of tattoos and danger. Someone who doesn’t obey every small command her mother makes. I want to be that person, but I know I’m not.

“I’m Piper,” I say, but I feel like there’s more.

Shayne’s eyes stay locked on mine, but something disappears from them. Something hopeful and mysterious. “Yes. You’re Piper.” He walks toward me, and his eyes return to normal. He leans forward and kisses me on the lips gently. And I know whether he claims to be a god or an average guy, I love him.

“Are you ready to see Asphodel?”

With Shayne, I’m ready for anything. “Tell me about Asphodel.”

“It’s the place in between,” he says. “For the souls who aren’t so good and aren’t so bad.”

“Like Purgatory?”

He seems to consider this. “Purgatory. That’s one way to look at it.”

Shayne smiles, and I never want him to stop. His smile has a way of filling me with a comfort I haven’t felt my entire life. I link my arm around his, and we start walking. “Except no one minds being there. They don’t even think about it.”

“So Randy is happy?” Maybe I can just find him in Asphodel and say goodbye. Tell him I’m sorry.

Shayne’s smile turns wry. “I’m not sure I’d go quite that far. But I’ll let you decide for yourself.” And then he picks up the Helm of Darkness and clips it onto his belt, and we move out of his sanctuary into the blackness of another tunnel.

Nice is erroneous. From the minute we reach the barren, red shore, I know this: Asphodel is a hell. Not like the eternal torture Shayne tells me is Tartarus. But a hell all the same.

The thick scent of musty wet clay hits me from the first step. I screw up my nose and look out from the mouth of the cave. “Which river is this?” I motion out beyond the dried up red river banks to the churning rusty water in the middle, and I see monsters again, but they aren’t staying under the surface. They’re jumping above, baring their fangs, snapping at each other. Their razored fins slice at each other, and if they bleed, their blood blends with the red water.

Shayne presses his lips together. “The River Lethe. Passageway to the Asphodel Meadows.”