CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Even Speedy gasped.

We watched as Atlas’ hands started to come up, but the message got lost somewhere between them and what was left of his brain. Gravity took over, and his body fell to the ground.

“I have been waiting to do that for twelve years,” Darling said, as she savagely kicked his corpse until it toppled into the chasm.

“Oh my sweet Lord,” Mike whispered.

I realized I was clinging to his arms, and him to mine; neither of us had ever seen something so…so cold.

Darling glanced over at us. “Stop,” she said. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. All I want is the treasure.”

Speedy snapped out of it first. “She’s lying,” he said. “Hanlon wants information. He wants to know how you found the library. That’s why she’s here—that’s why she saved you from the same goon squad she told how to find you. She needs you to trust her so you’ll tell her your methods.”

“Then why’d she kill Atlas?” I gasped. Some part of my subconscious noticed that Darling hadn’t put down the gun.

“Because she wanted to, and this was as good a time as any. After we’re dead, who’s gonna know?”

Mike and I took a few steps away from Darling. I realized just in time that we were about to cross the threshold of the treasure room, and I shoved both of us to the side.

That put a rock wall at our backs, which was okay. Very okay. Rock was good. Rock was solid. Rock didn’t explode into chunky red mist and oh God we were breathing pieces of Atlas…

I started to gag.

“Calm down, please,” Darling said. “I’m no threat to you—the animal lies.”

“Sometimes, yeah,” I said. “But he’s not very good at it, and he’s almost always right.”

The thief let the barrel of the gun dip as she searched our faces. Whatever she wanted to find there didn’t exist. She sighed, and the gun came up again.

“Hanlon is a very powerful enemy,” she said. “I like you, Hope, I do, but he would kill me when you would not. Tell me how you found this Labyrinth, and the library.”

“Ghosts,” I gasped. “Helen of Sparta’s ghost, specifically. And, Archimedes’ ghost, I guess, but I’ve never actually seen him.”

“Helen of Sparta?”

“Helen of Troy, whatever. I thought she was Helen of Troy at first, too, but it turns out she kills deer with her teeth.” I knew I was babbling. I couldn’t help it; there were pieces of Atlas on my face.

“She’s telling the truth,” Mike said. We were still clinging to each other, and while his voice was steady, I could feel him shaking.

What? Mike and I are truly awesome at beating people up. We draw the line way, way before killing, which is weird if you think about it—who knows better than psychics that death isn’t final? But death is a serious change and can be a terrible tragedy, and apparently, watching it happen hits us really hard.

Fuck you if you think this is a weakness of character. I’d rather feel than not.

“It would be easier if you told me what is really happening,” Darling said.

“It’s true!” I insisted. “She’s here right now. The tunnel? How I knew the route to this room? And…and Archimedes showed us his library! He’s probably here, too. I think he has another workshop here, but really we’re all just waiting for Theseus to try to kill us. Well, not the ghosts, though, since they’re already—”

Speedy reached over Mike’s head and slapped me. He didn’t pull his claws, and put three shallow scratches across my cheek.

It worked. I came back to my senses, one hand pressed to my cheek to push down the pain.

“Better?”

“Fucker,” I said to him. Then, to Darling: “Fucker.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” she said.

“Fine,” I snapped. “Ben Franklin thought there might have been a temporal oddity with the Antikythera Mechanism. He sent us here to Greece to learn its history. Along the way, I picked up Helen of Sparta, and she’s put us on a quest to undo Theseus’ curse. Helen’s an absolute badass, by the way, and she’s probably really pissed at you right now, so don’t be surprised if you get crushed between two giant rocks.

“Oh,” I added. “In case you’re wondering, we learned that Archimedes made the Mechanism without looking into the future, so our reality probably isn’t going to unmake itself. Not because of this, at least. You’re welcome.”

I can’t describe the expression on Darling’s face. It was…

Well. I can’t describe it.

When her expression didn’t change for five whole seconds, Speedy began to translate what I had said into Greek.

“No. No!” Darling shouted. “Quiet!”

She took a breath. “Hope? Tell me what has happened—tell me how you discovered the library, and this place. This does not have to be the end,” she added, with a nod towards the treasure room. “There is enough wealth here to keep Hanlon from us.”

“Liar,” Speedy said. “You’re planning to kill us, report back to Hanlon with some bullshit story, collect your money, and then sell off the items in this room one at a time until you die of old age. What a total money-grubbing cu—”

“Shut up, animal!” Darling shouted, and took a menacing step towards Speedy. She caught herself just in time; she had nearly put herself within Mike’s reach. “Oh,” she said to the koala. “So clever. I think you should die first.”

“Now we’re back on script!” Speedy chortled. “You had me worried when you shot your cousin—I did not see that coming.”

“Enough,” she said, and gestured at the treasure with her gun. “Into the room.”

“Um—” I began.

“Yes,” she said. “If there are traps, I expect you to spring them for me. One at a time, please, and walk quickly.”

She broke into a horrible smile. “Make the animal go first.”

I shifted to the side, preparing to jump her, but Speedy made a quick hsst! noise and shook his head at me. He then scurried over Mike’s shoulders and down the front of his body.

Mike and I exchanged worried looks, but, you know. Superintelligent koala.

Speedy walked straight towards the treasure room. As he was about to cross the threshold, he paused.

“I liked your cousin,” he said to Darling. “I’m gonna love watching what’s about to happen to you.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

Speedy cast a glance at the shining mountains of treasure before him. “Something nasty.”

He broke into the theme from Ghostbusters as he strutted into the treasure room, his gait way too confident for a koala on his way to his doom.

Speedy almost never sings, which is a pity because it’s really pleasant to hear. “He’s got a good voice,” I said to Mike.

“I ain't afraid o' no—thank you!”

Darling stared into the treasure room, watching the walls, the ceiling, the floor, searching for the first of the traps.

She didn’t look over her shoulder, which was a shame.

For her.

Speedy, Mike, and I, on the other hand, had a very good view of the open air behind her, and we saw that this was quickly turning a very distinctive shade of blue.

“Guys?” Speedy shouted from fifteen feet inside the treasure room. “Get in here. Quickly.”

Mike and I did what the superintelligent koala ordered. Darling stayed put.

Again, a shame.

Behind her, the blue turned from a hazy mist into vapor trails, twining together as they relearned the physics of mass.

I bent down and scooped up Speedy, and he leapt from my arms to Mike’s shoulders. “Get ready to run,” he whispered, as he hunkered down and wrapped his legs around Mike, and we humans strapped our flashlights into their holders.

“Hey, Darling?” I called. (What? I had to try.) “If you drop the gun and promise to play nice, we’ll protect you. No hard feelings, okay?”

She laughed. “Thank you, Hope. I do like you, very much, but…”

“Yeah,” I said, as the blue mist finished solidifying. “Business first.”

Darling’s head came off of her body like butter meeting the edge of a red-hot knife.

I didn’t scream this time, not even when her blood splashed over my chest. I was too preoccupied with what had killed her.

One of the most powerful monsters in the ancient world was staring down at me.

Minotaur.

Min-o-taur.

A bull’s head on a man’s body, and everything was scaled to fit the bull, not the man. It loomed over us, ten feet tall, with muscles on top of muscles and a set of sharp, shiny horns.

The weapon that had separated Darling from her head was covered in blood, and I couldn’t see what it was until the Minotaur obliged me by bringing his right arm into combat position. A labrys, that wicked double axe of legend, rose up above our heads.

“It’s blue,” I think I said. I don’t actually remember speaking, but the voice sounded like mine. “It’s completely blue. Shouldn’t a Minotaur be…not blue? Brown, maybe?”

A voice that sounded like Mike’s said, “It’s a ghost.”

“Oh,” said the voice that sounded like mine. “Good. Ghosts are good. Maybe…he was…protecting us from Darling?”

The Minotaur snorted.

I’ve never spent any time around livestock. Ever. So when that snort bypassed my ears and hit my amygdala, it was speaking directly to the part of my genetic heritage that still remembered how good life could be high up in the trees where there were snakes and leopards and venomous creepy-crawlies, but an almost zero percent chance of getting gored.

Minotaur.

Versus the two worst psychics in the world and their tiny companion of sentient fluff.

Although, if you flip that script…

Two of the best living martial artists and the most intelligent being on the planet, versus a bunch of glowing electrons.

Poor Minotaur.