Chapter Eleven: A Trap

Thanatos stood in a copse of trees on the outskirts to the clearing surrounding Circe’s house. Luckily the wolves and mountain lions were unaware of his presence. As anxious as he was to save his brother, he was feeling conflicted about this entire mission.

First, he couldn’t believe he’d stolen the helm. He’d never done anything like this before, outside of turning Therese. He was always obedient, reliable, and loyal to his parents and to his duties.

Throughout his ancient life, Than had observed that some people were thrilled by breaking the rules, by rebelling against authority, and by being what Hip called a “bad” boy. How many times had Hip teased Than for being too serious?

So here he was being a “bad” boy, breaking a major rule and rebelling against his father’s authority, and did he feel excited? Liberated? Thrilled?

Not one bit.

He felt like throwing up.

To make matters worse, in order to save his brother, he’d have to sever Hip’s body. The least painful way would be to cut off his head in one clean slice.

Than shuddered as he recalled what Hermes had done for him and Therese not four weeks ago.

So Than felt sick about stealing the helm, and even sicker for what he was about to do to his brother, but he couldn’t see any other way to rescue Hip.

And except for Therese, there was no one in the world he loved more.

He took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and headed toward the house.

He was used to not being noticed by most of the life around him as he gathered the souls for the Underworld, but usually an animal or two, and even a human, would turn a head his way, sniff in the air, and know he or she was in the presence of Death. The absolute lack of awareness by any of the mountain lions and wolves in Circe’s front yard was jarring. It was the helm, of course. It took some getting used to.

As he stood in the doorway, his eyes were drawn to a magnificent tapestry. It hung in long folds, like thick, heavy curtains, all along the back wall, reaching up to the cathedral ceiling. Centuries of work must have gone into the making of such an enormous fabric.

Everything else in the house was white—even the furniture—except for the black cauldron sitting on the hearth across the room and the witch’s grotesque jars lining the shelves.

At the sound of voices, Thanatos turned down the hall to find the bedroom. Hip sat with his back against an iron headboard. Atlas ate at a table next to the bed, and at his feet was a sheep tied to the iron bedpost.

Than suspected it was one of Polyphemus’s sheep, and he realized as Circe’s laughter rang throughout the room at something clever Hip had no doubt said, that maybe, just maybe, he’d been expected.

He stood there for a long while, taking in the scene.

Hip said, “My father knows better than to walk into this trap you’ve set for him.”

“Make him shut up,” Atlas said. “He’s trying to warn Hades.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t put Hypnos to sleep.” Circe leaned back on the bed beside Hip and stroked his cheek. “If Thanatos would have been the one to come to me for help, I could have made that brother silent. But this one…well, as long as he’s under my spell, no one can sleep, not even Sleep.” She cackled at her joke.

“Too bad it wasn’t the other brother,” Atlas said. “We would have seen faster results. People can afford to go without sleep for a few days, but death cannot wait.”

Beneath the helm, Thanatos gnawed on his lower lip. If this was a trap designed for Hades, then that meant Circe had targeted Therese at Scylla’s cave, knowing someone from the Underworld would come to the witch to make a deal. Atlas must have enlisted Circe from the beginning. He had lightning bolts, he had the trident, and now he wanted the helm; and here Than was, about to deliver it to him.

Circe pinched Hip’s cheek and said, “I’m glad it was this one. I’m rather fond of him.”

“Don’t get too fond,” Atlas said. “We have work to do.”

As much as he wanted to save his brother before he was brainwashed into wanting to stay, Than had to go back and report to Mount Olympus, even though he would have to admit that he’d stolen the helm.

It was the right thing to do.

He backed up toward the door and lost his footing. He fell flat on his back as a loose sheep scurried past him. The helm tumbled from his head and slammed against the white marble floor.

Atlas stood from his chair and pointed a thick finger. “Thanatos!”

Circe and Hip both looked at Than in shock.

Circe and Atlas scrambled for the helm.

Thanatos flew and snatched it up just as the other two had nearly reached it. He flew to the ceiling, fumbling with the helm, and finally had it back on. He hid in the corner and waited, panting and full of relief.

“Damn that boy!” Atlas shouted. “He’s probably gone to tell the others our plan.”

“Quick, give me your sword,” Circe said.

“What?” Atlas asked, perplexed.

“Chop off his head, now! Do it!” Circe screamed. “Before Death gets away.”

“Now wait a minute,” Hip objected, going pale.

“But…”

“He’ll have to multiply to recover the body!” Circe explained impatiently. “Give me your sword!”

Circe took the sword from the Titan’s sheath, and before Than could do anything to stop her, the witch swung the blade through the air and across Hip’s neck.

Than rushed to retrieve his brother’s dumbstruck soul, and was about to leave the body for another time, when Circe screeched, “If you leave him here, I’ll defile that body in so many horrible ways that you will never be able to reunite it with its soul! I’ll boil it and eat it, and then Hip can live inside my gut for the rest of eternity!”

Than disintegrated and flew with haste for the body and the head of his brother, but before he could depart, Atlas paralyzed him with the lightning bolt from the body of the dead sheep lying at his feet.

***

 

Therese gasped. The duties of death called to her in the way they did whenever Thanatos suffered at the hands of the Maenads. She instantly disintegrated and answered the calls of the dying souls.

And one of them was Hypnos.

Therese found Hypnos, bloody and decapitated, lying next to Than on Circe’s bed. She disintegrated, weeping, and, in disbelief, took the soul, body, and head of Hypnos to the Underworld.

Hip, like all souls at death, was confused. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” she lied through her tears as she clutched at her lockets.

Another of her carried his broken body to his rooms and gently laid him on his bed. Her tears fell on his lifeless form. She was so sorry. He had gone to help her. At that moment, she vowed she would do whatever she could to make him happy.

Another of her remained behind. She didn’t want to put her babies in jeopardy, but the sight of her husband lying motionless on the bed made her freeze, unable to look away.

At the garden of the Hesperides, she turned to Apollo and Artemis with a look that made Ares stop saying whatever it was he had been about to say.

It took her a moment to find the ability to speak.

“Something has happened to Thanatos,” she said, as all-out panic overtook her. She forced herself to say this next part, “And he was wearing the helm.”

The daughters of Atlas broke out in hideous laughter. The one hundred tongues of Ladon’s one hundred heads lashed at them and brought them to silence.

The pig tied at the base of the tree squealed.

In all of the confusion, Therese narrowed her eyes at the pig, wondering why she could not understand what it seemed to be urgently trying to say.

Apollo and his sister rushed to the chariot and called to Therese, but Therese was transfixed by the pig.

It was trying to tell her something.

Therese drew an arrow from her quiver and fitted it to her bow. Then she sent the arrow directly at the pig’s heart.

The pig transformed into Amphitrite.

Therese stared back at the goddess, stunned.

Ladon’s one-hundred heads attacked Amphitrite at the same time Ares whipped out his sword and lashed at the serpent’s necks. Therese fitted another arrow and turned the giant beast into a tiny canary, his fallen heads becoming feathers floating through the air.

“The trident!” Amphitrite cried. “It’s hidden in the tree!”

Ladon returned to his normal form before anyone could react. Therese fitted another arrow and turned him into a fish. He landed at the base of the tree, causing the Hesperides to shriek.

Apollo, by this time, had reached the tree and found the trident, but it disappeared before he laid hands on it.

“Atlas is here with the helm!” Therese shouted, because that was the only explanation for the trident’s sudden disappearance. “He has the trident!”

Poseidon appeared, roaring like a train.

Therese moved just in time to avoid getting zapped from the invisible source of the trident. To protect her babies, she god travelled away and hoped and prayed the others got out safely, too.

Back at Circe’s house, Therese watched as the witch stirred the brew in her cauldron in the main part of her house.

“I know you’re here,” Circe said. “Go ahead and take him. He’s no good to me in that condition, anyway.” The witch cackled.

Therese hesitated, fearing a trap, but her need to hold Than in her arms won out, and she flew to him.

***

 

Hypnos had never been more relieved to find himself in Tartarus. He just hoped his body was somewhere safe. He prayed to his brother and got no reply. He prayed to Therese, who appeared to him instantly.

As he listened to her explain through her tears what had happened, first at Circe’s after his death and then at the Garden of the Hesperides, Hypnos could not keep his transparent mouth from hanging open.

“I’m watching over Thanatos, now, not sure what to do. I’m also on my way to Mount Olympus,” Therese explained. “I’ll fill you in when I know more.”

Therese vanished.

She hadn’t been gone a full minute when Hip heard a loud roar, like a train, from somewhere in Tartarus. He flew to the main hall, where his sisters tormented their victims. Meg looked up at him as he entered, wearing the same look of confusion on her face that he was likely wearing on his.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

They waited, listening.

“Help!” cried the scratchy voice of Melinoe the Malevolent. “I can’t hold them back any longer!”

Hypnos prayed to his father as he and Meg rushed to the deepest pit.

Soon Tizzie was at his heels. “What’s going on?”

“We don’t know,” was all he could say as they clambered down the winding pit as fast as they could—it was dangerous to god travel this deep without knowing what dangers lay ahead.

As they neared the bottom, where the great iron door imprisoned the Titans, they were shocked to see Melinoe and a handful of souls flying in circles around the door.

“Someone’s in here!” Melinoe cried. “We can’t sense him, but he’s been shooting something powerful at this door!”

Hades appeared. “It’s Atlas, no doubt.”

“You’re right about that!” came the voice of the Titan.

As soon as the Titan had spoken, the other gods detected his location and converged upon him in a heap. Hades managed to recover his helm, but not before Atlas shot the iron door with both the trident and a lightning bolt in a powerful explosion that sent everything and everyone flying.

Because Hypnos had no corporeal body, he and the other souls who had gathered there were not affected by the blast. They watched in silent terror as Atlas returned to the bottom of the pit, reached in his stout arm, and pulled his brother Menoetius out.

The shouts from the other Titan prisoners rang out in the pit, but before the Titans could make their escape, an invisible force shoved the iron door closed.

Hypnos knew it was his father, wearing his helm.

But Atlas took the trident and pointed it at the iron door. “It’s no use, Hades!” the Titan cried. “You can close it as often as you like, but I’m only going to keep busting it back open.”

Hip wished there was something he could do to help—anything.

As Atlas directed the force of the trident toward the iron door, Melinoe appeared in front of him and took the full paralyzing force with her own body.

This gave Meg, Tizzie, and Hades time to act. Hypnos watched in helpless wonder as the arm holding the trident was cut from its body, the trident was recovered by the invisible Hades, and Atlas was bound with the thick chains of the Furies.

Atlas had been captured, but his brother, Menoetius, was no longer in sight, and Melinoe lay in a heap on the ground.

***

 

Jen led Ace at a walk back to the pen. Bobby was right behind her on Hershey. Their mother and John—that’s what they were asked to call Mr. Stern—had already gone indoors to prepare supper. Apparently they wanted to talk about the ceremony and wanted all of them together.

Times like tonight made Jen miss Pete.

Bobby must have been thinking along the same lines, because when he came into the barn where she was removing tack and putting it away, he asked, “Can you talk to Pete?”

“Nuh-uh. I wish.” She took a brush to Ace’s back.

Bobby got to work on Hershey. “Could you get a message to him?”

She looked up, her brows bent. “I suppose. Why?”

“I want him to know I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For blaming him. When Daddy had to leave. I told Pete it was his fault.”

“Oh.”

Tears built up in his eyes, visible beneath his cowboy hat even in the fading light. “I owe both of you an apology. I just…”

“It’s okay,” Jen said, not really wanting to talk about it. “I understand.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “So will Pete. I’ll make sure of it.”

Bobby smiled, but not at her. He was embarrassed and awkward, but Jen knew how much courage he’d needed to bring it up to her. She was sorry to realize how heavily it had still weighed on his mind, and, at that moment, she realized she had never been her father’s only victim. They’d all suffered. This made her feel sad, but it also brought her some comfort. She wasn’t alone. She had her mother and brothers.

Bobby finished up and headed to the house to wash up. She took her time in the barn, even though she didn’t like being alone in there anymore—not since her father’s ghost had haunted it. She could never sense him, but she suspected he was there. She was tired of being afraid of him.

“You were selfish,” she said out loud, in case he was there and could hear her. “You should have tried to get help sooner—if it was a sickness. You should have done it for us. For me.”

She turned out the light and quickly left the barn. Her heart was beating fast, but she shed no tears. She refused to cry, ever again, about him and what he’d done. The past was the past. Now she’d said her peace. It was over.

As she crossed the gravel path toward her house, a huge wind picked up and threw dirt against her body, stinging her eyes. She shut them, bringing her hands to her face. Then something powerful lifted her up off of the ground and dragged her through the air. She screamed.

If this was Hip’s way of sweeping her off her feet, she was going to kill him.