Chapter Twenty-Two: Return to Circe’s Lair

 

Therese stretched in bed beside Than after waking from a troubling dream. She’d tried several times to command the figment to show itself, but it hadn’t worked. Lately, her dreams hadn’t been as lucid as they were in the past. She found herself having less and less control.

Than opened his eyes and caught her staring at him. They both smiled.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she reached over and kissed him.

“I’m surprised you’re up this early.”

On Sundays, they usually slept until the twins woke them up by running in all at once and fighting for the middle spot between mommy and daddy.

“I had a bad dream,” she admitted.

“Oh, yeah? Me, too. What was yours about?”

She nestled her head in the crook of his arm and ran her fingers through his chest hair. “It was so vivid. I was marching in my high school band, playing my flute, like I used to.”

“You haven’t played in a long time.”

“I know, right? Anyway, I kept forgetting my steps. I was getting more and more confused and bumping into other band members. And then my flute turned into Muggie’s toothbrush, but I was still trying to play it.”

“I bet that wasn’t easy.” Than laughed.

“That’s not the bad part. Jen appeared in the middle of the football field during our number, but she wasn’t in her band uniform or playing her French horn.”

“Jen was in my dream last night, too,” Than said.

“Really? Well, in my dream, she told me that Hip had been captured by Uranus and all the gods were trying to find him before Uranus took over Hip’s body.”

Than stiffened beside her.

“Than?” Therese sat up and studied her husband. He’d turned nearly as white as their sheets. “Than, are you okay?”

“That’s the same thing Jen said to me in my dream.”

 

Jen hovered in the bright sky directly above Circe’s island.

“I can feel the dark magic all over her house,” Hecate said beside her.

“Now that I can fly, I won’t fall into the same trap,” Jen said. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Hecate warned. “There’s definitely more than one kind of trap. We need a protection spell.”

“Okay. How long will that take?”

“I can get everything I need here, except a glass jar and the blood of a dragon.”

“Huh? We don’t have time for that.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Hecate said. “Go grab a glass jar with a lid from anywhere and then go to Ladon. Put him and the Hesperides into the deep boon of sleep before you prick him with your sword and collect his blood in the jar. I just need a drop.”

“This is insane,” Jen objected. Did Hecate really think Jen could do all that? She’d only just learned to fly. “Let’s just get in and out, real quick.”

“Trust me, Jen,” Hecate insisted. “It won’t be that easy.”

Jen sighed and rolled her eyes as she left. The only place she could think of to go for a glass jar with a lid was her mother’s cabinet, where she kept mason jars for making jellies. Jen god traveled in and out of her mother’s kitchen and then went to Morocco and to the Garden of the Hesperides.

As soon as she had arrived, Ladon sensed her. All one hundred heads lifted from where they draped in the branches of Hera’s golden apple tree, and all two hundred eyes glared at her. The three nymphs at the base of the tree had been snoring among the huge, gnarly roots, but now they, too, sat up and looked at her.

Jen used the power of Slumber to put them all into the deep boon of sleep. Then she flew up to Ladon—trembling a little at the thought of him suddenly waking up and coiling his hundred necks around her—conjured her sword, and pricked the tip into his skin.

All two hundred eyes snapped open.

Without hesitation, Jen god traveled back to Hecate, her heart pounding.

“Did you get it?” Hecate asked.

Jen handed over the empty jar. “Sorry. He woke up.”

Hecate quickly took the jar, opened the lid, and collected the single drop sliding down Jen’s blade. “This is all I need. Now hold the jar for me while I add the other ingredients.”

“What?” Jen laughed with disbelief. “You mean I did it?”

Hecate shook her head with a smile. “I never doubted you for a minute.”

Jen really needed to stop doubting herself, too.

The goddess of magic opened her jacket and took out a little silk purse. “This is a pinch of salt.” She cinched the sack and returned it to her pocket. Then she took out a small plastic vial. “This is a drop of honey.” Then she brought out an apple.

“You carry apples in your pockets?” Jen asked.

Hecate laughed. “I got this while you were gone.” She took a bite. “Want some?”

Jen shook her head. “Aren’t we in a hurry? We don’t have time for a snack.”

Hecate broke the apple open and dug out six seeds, which she dropped into the jar. She discarded the rest of the apple. “Now we need a long piece of vine, still green. Let’s go cut one from those woods.” She pointed to the forest on the island.

 

Hip found it ironic that the god of slumber was having trouble falling asleep. He’d recently come up with the idea of trying to communicate with Jen in the Dreamworld. The injections of dark magic had made him weak but not sleepy.

It didn’t help that the two other gods in the room were drinking wine and talking. Hip noticed that the white god was even slurring his speech. Had he really had enough wine to make him drunk? It then occurred to Hip that the potion might be making him less immune to the effects of the wine. Maybe wine would help Hip sleep.

“Can I have a drink?” Hip asked. “I’m thirsty.”

 

After filling the jar with water from a stream, Hecate put the end of the vine through a hole she had made in the lid.

“Now what?” Jen asked.

“I need to whisper the words of protection from traps and hexes into the jar, and then we’ll set it out in the sun. As long as the vine stays green, we’ll be protected. But when it turns brown, the spell will lose its power.”

Hecate whispered into the jar where the vine came through the hole in the lid. When she had finished her incantation, she wrapped the rest of the vine around the jar, securing it by intertwining it.

“We have about ten minutes, I think,” Hecate said. “Let’s not waste time.”

Jen followed Hecate to the clearing across from Circe’s house, half expecting the mountain lions and wolves to attack. Hecate put the jar upright in the sunshine and headed up the path. Jen followed, keeping an eye out for the animals.

When they reached the front door of Circe’s angular house, they found it opened. Five wolves stood in a circle in the kitchen, growling. Jen noticed the carcass of the sixth wolf lying on the floor by the hearth, its bones and hide picked clean.

She shuddered, wondering if the other wolves had turned on it, or if it had been eaten after dying of natural causes.

A sudden shriek startled them both. It came from the center of the wolves. Jen thought maybe they had trapped one of the mountain lions.

We don’t have time to get involved, Hecate said telepathically. Grab any bottles you can find.

Jen flew around the house, trying not to let the pungent odor of dead things get to her, but all of Circe’s bottles were lying broken on the white stone floor. Even the open shelving in the kitchen was empty. There was nothing around but broken glass, half-eaten dead things, and growling wolves.

They searched the bedroom, bathroom, and washroom and still found nothing that might be the antidote. Jen flew to the hearth where the black cauldron sat on a heap of ash. The mantle held only one object—a tiny white skull. Jen shuddered.

She flew past the tapestry to the shelves, where she had collected the bottles for Scylla. She knew better than to stand on the trap door, but wondered if the protection spell would protect her from it. Curious about the trap, she lifted the piles of tapestry away from the floor to investigate. Behind the cloth, she found a hidden set of shelves, and on them stood bottles and bottles filled with various colored liquids.

“I hit the mother lode!” she cried to Hecate.

“Jen?” a voice called from the kitchen. It wasn’t Hecate’s.

The wolves howled.

Jen and Hecate glanced nervously at one another, both still as statues.

“Jen, is that you?” the voice called again. “It’s me. Scylla. I need your help!”

 

When Hip realized he had fallen asleep and was stumbling around in the Dreamworld, he was so excited, that he almost woke himself up. Thank goodness the other gods had been generous with the wine. They’d chuckled when Hip kept begging for more. Metis had even spilled some down the front of Hip’s chest as she had held the cup to his lips.

He ran through his dream, through what appeared to be the Fields of Asphodel, but he knew better than that. If he were really in the fields, he wouldn’t be running, and Muggie would be lying beside him. He’d also have the power of disintegration, and he didn’t.

As if his own subconscious mind were trying to play games with him, he disintegrated into two. He looked at his other self and blinked. Had his powers really been restored?

His other self took off running. Hip followed, calling out, “Wait!”

Now they were in a long corridor. The other Hip turned the corner just up ahead. Hip ran as fast as he could around the corner and saw his other self a few yards away.

“Figment!” Hip shouted. “I command you to show yourself!”

His other self exploded, and left in the wake of the smoke was the eel-like figment, giggling as it flew away.

The ground suddenly crumbled beneath Hip’s feet, and he fell into a hole as a surge of water washed over him. Now he was swimming, trying to avoid being sucked out with the current.

“Jen!” he cried, sputtering out the water that had gotten into his mouth. “Jen!”

He grabbed onto a tree root and held on as the water pushed against him. A few yards away, the water fell thousands of feet into a roaring waterfall. Using the root, Hip tried to pull himself from the fast-flowing river. He got one foot onto the bank, and, just when he was about to make it out, the root snapped in half.

He was falling and falling and falling.

Then he heard a voice shout, “You can fly!”

Gliding in the sky across from the waterfall was a butterfly.

Again it shouted, “You can fly!”

Hip realized that, even though he didn’t have his godly powers in the Upperworld, where he was trapped on a trick throne, he could fly in the Dreamworld. Anyone could fly in the Dreamworld. As the tumultuous river below got closer and closer, Hip pushed off with his toes and soared from the roaring waterfall toward the butterfly.

Now he was running in a meadow of green grass, and he was chasing the butterfly. The scene reminded him of Muggie’s dreams. Again, it seemed his own mind wanted to play games with itself, for the butterfly turned into Muggie with wings.

“Muggie?” Hip shouted.

The boy turned and waved.

Of course it wasn’t Muggie, Hip thought. And, aloud he said, “Figment! I command you to show yourself!”

When Muggie did not transform into a figment, Hip’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Surely this wasn’t the real Muggie entering Hip’s dream. Again, Hip shouted, “Figment! I command you to show yourself!”

The boy only laughed and waved.

Then Hip had an idea. “Wait, Muggie! Can you take me to Jen?”

The boy shrugged and continued to fly, transforming himself into a dragon.

“It’s important, son!” Hip had not meant to call the boy son. “Tell Jen I’m trapped in northern Siberia, in a gorge between four mountains resembling fingers. Please, Muggie! Can you do that?”

The dragon nodded before it spat fire into the air and sailed away.

Hip had no way of knowing if the boy could really give Jen his message, so he continued to look for her, too.

 

“Scylla?” Jen said from where she stood near Circe’s black cauldron. She glanced at Hecate as they both flew to the kitchen above the growling wolves.

Down in a hole about twenty feet deep, Scylla stood in her beautiful maiden form, looking up at them.

“Scylla?” Hecate glanced once more at Jen before returning her gaze to the pit below. “What are you doing here?”

“My mother told me this body was worthless,” Scylla said. “At first, I ran away, but I had nowhere to go. I don’t have any friends except for my family.”

“You call them friends?” Jen asked.

“I know I betrayed you and don’t deserve your help, Jen, but I’ll tell you something important about the attacks on Gaia if you get me out of here.”

Jen crossed her arms. “Why did you come here in the first place?”

“I came looking for the antidote to the beauty potion. I was going to go back to my old self, to please my mother.”

“You mean after all the trouble I went through to get you like this…”

“I’ve had a lot of time down here to think. I’ve decided to stay as I am. Damn my mother. Damn them all. Maybe I’ll go and live among mortals and find friends there.”

“We’re running out of time,” Hecate said. “We need to go.”

“My mother’s cousin, Metis, is working with Uranus to overthrow Zeus,” Scylla said with a voice full of desperation. “They’ve made promises to my parents in exchange for their support.”

“Metis?” Hecate gasped. “I don’t believe you.”

“And she’s pregnant with Zeus’s son,” Scylla said.

“That’s not possible,” Hecate said.

“All the gods are sterile, right?” Jen asked Hecate.

“Uranus used Circe’s dark magic to make Metis fertile again,” Scylla said. “Now please help me!”

Jen disintegrated to look at the vine in the protection charm. It was beginning to turn brown. She filled her bag with all of the potions hidden behind the tapestry.

Then she gave the bag to Hecate. “Take these and go. Hopefully the antidote is there.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Hecate asked.

“I can’t leave Scylla.”

“We can come back for her later,” Hecate said “I’ll make another protection charm.”

“I doubt I can fool Ladon a second time.”

At that moment, a jolt of electricity shot from the ceiling toward Jen and Hecate. Hecate flew away, begging Jen telepathically to follow. Jen dodged another electric blast as she put the wolves into the deep boon of sleep.

Once she could fully see inside the pit, she groaned. Tree roots had wrapped themselves around Scylla’s ankles, preventing her from flying out. Jen conjured her sword again and flew into the pit, hacking away at the roots as electricity continued to attack her. Each time she cut a root in half, it grew twice as long, wrapping around her wrists and neck. Once the tree roots held her captive, she lost her ability to disintegrate. Full of panic, she hacked away as Scylla flew from the pit.

“Thanks!” Scylla said with a cold grin.

As Jen fought the crazy tree roots, she shouted, “You’re really going to leave me here?”

“I gave you information, didn’t I? We’re even now.”

Jen grunted when a thick root pinned the hand holding her sword to her leg.

Scylla hovered over the pit as if she might intervene.

“Please, Scylla!” Jen begged. “I know you don’t want to be a monster.”

“You don’t know me at all!” Scylla screamed. “No one knows me!”

“I can’t believe I actually thought there was still good in you!” Jen yelled.

“Your foolish gullibility is not my problem!” Scylla flew to Circe’s door.

“I really am a fool!” Jen shouted, laughing a low laugh. She couldn’t believe she’d trusted that loathsome crab again. Why? Why had she so badly wanted to believe in her?

Like a ton of bricks, the realization hit her. There was a time she’d wanted to believe there was good in her father, too. But toward the end of his life, Jen had given up on him. She hated that she felt guilty for not forgiving him before he died. She was the victim. Why should she feel guilty? But she did. And she couldn’t let it go. And believing in Scylla, forgiving Scylla, finding good in Scylla was her way of dealing with the unresolved guilt she still felt because of her father.

And now that weakness had her trapped in a pit in a witch’s lair while her husband’s body was about to be possessed by an evil villain wanting to overthrow the Olympians.

She screamed with frustration, her throat burning from the abuse. “I hate myself! I’m such an idiot! Why, Jen? Why are you so stupid!”