P. Hoover - Solstice

Phoenix

Shayne pretends he’s got his anger under control, but the red flashes in his eyes so fast it looks like sparks.

It’s only when Cerberus pounds through the clay, meeting us on the bank of the river, that Shayne’s eyes finally stop their flickering madness and his muscles relax. I, on the other hand, can’t stop thinking about Minos.

Criminal. Tartarus. His haunting words keep coming back to me. Killing a phoenix. We walk down the long tunnel, Cerberus only steps ahead of us as if sensing Shayne’s unease. We’re almost to his sanctuary ahead. Already, I smell the fire burning. Once we’re inside, he pours us each a glass of wine. I finish mine in one long sip, and he refills the glass, but already the wine’s moving through my veins, flushing the fear out of my body.

Shayne lets out a long sigh. “Your visits haven’t gone so well, have they?”

I glance at him, but don’t respond.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“What does a dead bird have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. Everything.” Shayne gets up and walks to the bookcase. He pulls a red leather book from the shelf, bringing it back over to me. Flipping it open, he stops on a page with a hand-drawn purple and red bird amid a mass of flames. I suck in my breath when I see its tail: five long red feathers—feathers which look identical to the one I found in the box Melina had given me.

“What?” Shayne has turned away from the page and is studying me.

I shake my head. “Nothing.” But images of the box and the feather stay in my mind.

He doesn’t press me but turns back to the picture. “The phoenix lives for a thousand years, but when it’s time for the phoenix to die, it bursts into flames, burning until it’s nothing but ashes. Once the ashes have cooled, the phoenix is reborn again, all on its own.”

I look down at the picture, studying it. “Does that mean it can’t be killed?”

And why did Melina give me a box with a phoenix’s tail feather in it?

Shayne flips the book shut and turns to the fire which crackles when he looks at it. “It’s almost impossible to kill a phoenix.”

“But it can be done?”

Shayne nods. “Yes. It can be done.”

“And for someone who kills a phoenix…” I know how the sentence will end, and I don’t want to finish it.

Shayne takes a long breath. “The penalty is eternity in Tartarus.”

I’ve never seen a phoenix, and part of me doesn’t even believe they exist. But here I am in Hell drinking wine with Shayne—Lord of the Underworld, and I know it’s possible. There was a feather to prove it. Or maybe it was a feather to prove my guilt. “Did I kill a phoenix?”

Shayne moves so close, the warmth of his body smolders next to me. He takes my hands, and the smell of the wine on his breath sends a wave of exhilaration through me, blending in with his sweet burnt taste.

“No. You did not kill a phoenix.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding, and can’t stop the smile that’s hiding behind my lips. Finally, an answer. “So Minos was wrong.”

Shayne nods. “Yes. Minos was wrong.” And then he’s leaning into me and kissing me, and I forget about phoenixes and Minos and Asphodel. He traces his fingers up my spine, and I respond by pulling him down onto the floor. Between the embers and Shayne, I feel like I’m on fire myself. I run my hands over his chest, his arms; I just don’t want to believe we ever have to be apart.

We stay there forever, and even at that, it’s not long enough. I never want to go away, but as the wine leaves me, I know I have to. I need to get back to reality, to take care of Chloe, to deal with my mom. And then, of course, there’s Reese. It’s only once Charon takes us back across the River Acheron that Shayne mentions him again.

“Please stay away from Ares.” The concern in his eyes and voice is enough to catch me off guard.

“I will. There’s nothing to worry about.” I’m telling myself this as much as I’m telling Shayne because, when I say his name, I remember the kiss we shared and wonder if I’m being honest with myself.

“I’m serious, Piper. Ares will trick you and deceive you and do whatever he needs to do to win.”

“To win?” I stare at him. “Is there some kind of competition I’m not aware of? Am I like a prize or something?”

“No, Piper. Nothing like that.”

“Then what?” I need to know. “You can only win something when you’re competing against someone else.”

“Look. Ares doesn’t care about the prize. He only cares about the battle and the conquest. He thrives on it. You can think whatever you want, but just remember that. He’s the god of war.”

I roll my eyes. It’s not like this is some kind of amusement park game and I’m the giant stuffed animal up for grabs. This is my life. “I have no plans to go near Reese.” And it’s true. I can only hope he’s gone by the time I get back home and that I never see him again.

Shayne twists up his lips. “Yes, but I’m sure he has plans to go near you.”

I cross my arms. “I’ll be careful. As long as he doesn’t hold me at knife point and threaten to throw me into Tartarus, everything should be fine.”

Shayne doesn’t laugh. He caresses my ear, sending a wonderful chill down below my stomach. And then he gives me a wistful smile and walks away, leaving me to return to Earth above.

I return from the Underworld and find myself by the Spanish Oak. Reese is nowhere to be found. Overhead, the birds flutter through the trees. Birds. Phoenix. I look up and imagine I see a purple and red bird overhead bathed in flames, but there’s no fire. There’s no sun. A giant gray cloud fills the sky, and the wind picks up and starts blowing leaves off the tree.

I know I need to go back home and see if my mom will tell me what’s going on. She’s keeping secrets from me about who I am. Who she is. It’s like I don’t know her. And I don’t even know myself.

I try to piece it out in my mind, but there’s just nothing that makes sense. I’ve lived with my mom my entire life. That’s all I am. Still, there has to be something more. Otherwise, why would two Greek gods suddenly be fighting for my attention?

A gust of wind slams into the tree, and a cracking sound cuts into the air. I hardly have time to jump out of the way before a branch from the Spanish Oak falls to the ground right where I was standing. Would it have killed me? Would I be judged just like Randy Conner? I try to think of the good things I’ve done in my life. Are they worthy of paradise?

As I walk out of the woods, the wind starts to really pick, so I run until I’m in front of the shuttle stop. My tattoo aches, and it’s turning red again. The ink has faded a few shades, but the raised scar underneath remains. And I think of the face I saw in Asphodel. Like a shadow of Chloe. It had to have been a shade of Reese in disguise, but the ghost Chloe reminds me too much of the fading tattoo. I brush it with my hand, and it deepens again.

When the shuttle stops, I hop on and head for her house. The wind’s blowing so hard it pushes on the shuttle, but the driver has his hands tight on the wheel. It’s getting dark outside, almost like night, and I think most people will be heading inside. But around the steel struts that reach upward to form the domes, there are work crews everywhere. I get off the shuttle at Chloe’s stop, but before I walk the remaining distance to her house, I move closer to one of the steel legs and try to see what’s going on.