“I’ve told you before. It won’t work. Hades is dead, his wife is off getting high on coca leaves with her mom in Peru, and if you think some hocus-pocus will magically make Selene reappear at your front door, you’re as deluded as a blue-collar Republican.” Scooter Joveson’s disembodied voice echoed so loudly through Theo’s cramped rental car that he had to lower the volume on his cell’s speakerphone.
Months before, he’d contacted Selene’s younger half brother and asked for his help reincarnating her. As the god Hermes, Scooter had once overseen more domains than nearly any other Athanatos, serving as both divine Messenger and Psychopompos, the Conductor of Souls to—and from—the Underworld. Yet Scooter, who’d returned to Los Angeles shortly after the final battle on the Statue of Liberty, had flatly refused to help.
Now, on the ride back to the city from his upstate bacchanal, Theo had called from the car to beg the Athanatos’s assistance once more. Unsurprisingly, Scooter picked up his cell, clearly wide-awake—it was only ten o’clock on the West Coast, and despite his recent incarnation as a cybersecurity expert, he still kept his old movie mogul’s hours.
“It’s not hocus-pocus,” Theo insisted. “I’m going all the way to the Underworld to bring her back.”
For once, Scooter fell silent. Theo listened patiently to the hiss of his breathing over the speakerphone, waiting for him to state the obvious. Finally, “You know what that means?”
“Yeah, I’m not crazy, Scooter—I don’t want to die. The plan is just to die temporarily.” The words made Theo grip the steering wheel like a life preserver. He could barely believe he’d even said them. “I find Selene in the afterlife, then bring her back out with me.” He barreled on, knowing that if he stopped to think, he’d lose his nerve. “But I’m going to need help, and you’re the only one I can ask. So get on your private jet and meet me at Selene’s house tomorrow.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“I don’t have time to debate this.” Theo fought the impulse to slam his foot on the gas for emphasis. “Archeologists found cherry pits at many mithraea sites—that means the original Mithraists held their most important rituals in summertime. And knowing their penchant for astronomical connections, probably at the summer solstice. That’s two days from now. And if the Mithraists chose propitious times to imbue their rites with the most power, I should do the same.”
“Kronos’s gullet,” Scooter cursed. “Selene died so you could live, remember? I’m not going to let you kill yourself! If you want to honor her memory, you’ll help me track down Saturn instead. Trust me, if the old bastard had killed you, she wouldn’t have rested until he was just as dead.”
For months, despite Scooter’s begging, Theo had refused to help find Saturn. He’d insisted he was simply too grief-stricken to bother with revenge. In truth, he’d had a far more important task to focus on. He drummed his fingers
on the steering wheel, impatient with the old argument. “Selene wasn’t the same vengeful goddess anymore. She would’ve rather had me back than see Saturn punished. I believe that.”
“I’m warning you, Theo. Don’t even think about doing this. It’s stupid. It won’t work.” Scooter sounded deadly serious. He sounded scared.
“I didn’t know you cared.”
“Damn you,” Scooter hissed. “You’re all I have left of my sister. Of course I care.”
Theo fell silent, stunned to hear such emotion from the usually blithe god. “If you loved Selene so much, then you’d want to get her back.”
“I won’t—”
“You’re in Los Angeles! Even with all your money and your private jet and your computer hacking skills and whatever else you’re amusing yourself with out there, you can’t stop me. I’ll do it with or without you.”
“No!” the God of Eloquence spluttered, seemingly at a loss for a more convincing argument.
“Then get on a plane to New York and come help make sure this isn’t all for nothing.”
Scooter gave an agonized groan. “Don’t do anything until I get there.”
“Then you better hurry.”
“Wait. Wait. Forget New York, Theo.” He took a sharp intake of breath, as if struck by an idea. “If you really want this whole ridiculous resurrection plan to work—and may I just stress again that it won’t—you shouldn’t off yourself in some Manhattan brownstone.”
“Why not? I don’t have to go to some physical entrance to the Underworld. I just have to die.”
“Sure, but location matters, my friend. Remember how the Mithraists always performed their rites at landmarks in the city? They not only chose times with astrological significance—they picked significant sites, too. You want to bring Selene back, you need a location scout to find someplace with serious ties to the afterlife and resurrection cults.”
“Then maybe we can both get what we want,” Theo said, his eyes still on the dark highway before him but his mind thousands of miles away.
“Now you’re talking. What did you have in mind?”
“Our Mithraists, it turns out, were equal-opportunity worshipers. They also prayed to a lion-headed god—a version of Aion, the Orphic Protogonos. His statue was right there in the mithraeum under Saint Patrick’s. He’s a crucial element in their understanding of reincarnation. So if I find Saturn’s current mithraeum, I also find the best possible place to perform my own rite of resurrection.”
“Now you want to help us find Saturn?” Scooter sounded more satisfied than surprised.
“I want to find the mithraeum—an active site of worship with the power to make my own quest succeed. If we find Saturn, too, well, that’s extra credit.”
“Uh-huh. You’re talking about the mithraeum somewhere in Rome that Flint’s spent half a year looking for? The one I’ve been begging for your help in finding and you’ve refused to bother with. That one?” he asked pointedly.
“Yeah.”
“What about ‘we’ve been searching for six months’ didn’t you understand? Looks like you’re going to have to delay the suicide pact. Who knows how long it will take us to find it?”
“You’re only stumped because I haven’t been helping.”
“Hah! What happened to the humble professor, awed by the presence of the immortals?”
“He died about when Selene did.”
Scooter fell silent. That’s twice in one conversation that he’s been speechless.
“I’m close, I can feel it,” Theo went on. “I even have instructions.” That was technically true, although the illegible Greek on the stolen gold pendant wasn’t providing much help so far. “If we can just find this Aion, we can get Selene out. At least that’s what Dennis said.”
“You talked to Dennis? You really are desperate.”
“Yeah, I wound up both enlightened and morally compromised. As usual.”
“You’re probably still high. That explains a lot.”
Theo ignored him, even though Scooter had a point. He probably shouldn’t be driving, much less contemplating suicide. Yet he felt surprisingly clearheaded. When his hallucination of Selene had vanished, he felt he’d lost her all over again. He’d do anything to bring her back—for real, this time.
“Did you know Aion?” he pressed. “I think I’d trust your recollections of him more than Dennis’s.”
“Man with a lion’s head? Sounds like if I had, I’d remember.”
“He’s twined with snakes, he’s holding two L-shaped tools in his hands—Here, let me just show you.” He risked taking his eyes off the road long enough to send a photo he’d taken of the lion-headed statue in the Met to Scooter’s phone. A moment later, Scooter’s disembodied laughter rang through the car.
“I hate to admit it, but you may be onto something. I don’t recognize the god, but those tools are keys, Theo. Roman keys.”
The words of a Pythagorean prayer came back to Theo: Bless us, divine number, you who generated gods and men. O holy, holy Tetractys that contains the root and source of the eternally flowing creation. The never-swerving, the never-tiring holy Ten, the key holder of all. But if the lion-headed god held keys as well, all the more reason he could open the doors to the afterlife.
“So Aion holds the keys to reincarnation …” he pondered aloud. “Keys to heaven …” He nearly swerved off the road as he made the connection. “Who else holds two keys to heaven?” he nearly shouted.
“Uh—”
“Peter, for God’s sake! Saint Peter. As in Saint Peter’s Basilica. Where the pope lives! Saturn’s been inserting Mithraic ideas into Christianity since the very beginning. He even put them into the Vatican itself! We know where our mithraeum is, Scooter!”
“Styx. You are good. You think the mithraeum’s actually inside Vatican City?”
“Under the biggest church in the whole damn world. Yeah, I think that’s exactly where it is.” Theo’s mind spun, already judging how quickly he could get home, pack, and book a flight to Rome. “I can get there by tomorrow evening. You?”
“So you’re putting off the whole suicide thing for a day.” Scooter let out a long breath. “Good. That gives me time to change your mind.”
“If we don’t find the mithraeum before the solstice,” Theo said sharply, “I’ll kill myself anyway. I’ll slit my wrists in the damn Trevi Fountain if need be. Going to Rome is not procrastination. I’m just giving myself—and Selene—the best chance I can.”
Scooter sighed. “You sure you can find Saturn?”
“Of course not!” Theo took a deep breath to steady himself and added more calmly, “But it’s worth a shot.”
“And all I have to do in return is promise to help you die.”
“Nope. Pretty sure I can manage that on my own. I need you to help me live again.”
“There’s no guarantee—”
“I don’t need a guarantee. I just need a chance. Worst case, at least my misery is over. But if I’m right about the mithraeum, you still get Saturn.”
Scooter sighed again. “I’ll meet you in Saint Peter’s. But Theo, since we’re about to face an army of angry syndexioi—don’t forget to bring the … you know whats.”
“Hey, what kind of Makarites would I be if I showed up without my magic weapons?”
“A dead one,” Scooter answered unnecessarily.
“Oh, I think that’s a given at this point.” Theo forced a laugh, then hung up before Scooter could say another word.