The Immortal Fire Page 13

  I love you.

  Charlotte

  With a deep breath, she got out her duffel bag and put it on the bed, opening it to look through one last time. Mew sat on the foot of the bed, looking suspicious. Charlotte gulped—it was bad enough leaving her parents.

  “Mew, we have to go now,” she said, her voice breaking. “We have to go to be with the Prometheans.” The cat stared up at her, wide-eyed. “You went into the Underworld. You saw what it was like. I’m going to miss you very much. You take care of my parents, all right? Something might be coming, something they won’t be ready for. You protect them.”

  Charlotte picked up the cat and gave her a huge hug, then turned back to the note and added:

  P.S. Please take good care of Mew. She likes being scratched just behind her left ear.

  Mew started yowling then, loud and mournful. Charlotte looked around in a panic. “Shh, baby,” she whispered. The cat narrowed her eyes and yowled more loudly. Tears welled up in Charlotte’s eyes, and all she could do was grab her bag and dart out of the room, shutting the door behind her. She could hear Mew’s yells through the door.

  Quickly she went downstairs to find Zee waiting for her in the front hall, looking a little displaced.

  “Are you all right?” he asked gently.

  She shook her head. “Mew knows. She’s yowling up a storm.”

  Pain flashed across Zee’s face. “I guess we should go before—”

  “Yeah,” said Charlotte, wiping away a tear. “We’ll be back,” she added, hearing the lie in her voice. Back? After what exactly? They were going to join the Prometheans. They were going to the belly of the beast. Was that the sort of thing one came back from?

  Zee nodded, and Charlotte knew he didn’t believe her either. “I left them a note,” she added, pointing upstairs. “Because that worked so well last time.”

  “I left mine a letter. I just don’t want them to think something horrid has happened to us, you know?”

  “I hope nothing does.”

  “Aw, come on, Char,” Zee said with a half smile, “what could possibly go wrong?”

  She gave him a small smile back. Zee carefully opened the front door, and together they stepped out of their home into the still night.

  Mr. Metos was there, waiting for them in his dark car, and as the cousins approached he got out quietly, opened the trunk, and put their bags inside.

  “Ready?” he whispered, holding the door open for them.

  Charlotte nodded, and with one last long look at her house, she stepped inside.

  CHAPTER 14

  The Lair of the Prometheans

  FOR MUCH OF THE LAST YEAR, CHARLOTTE FELT LIKE she had been living in a book—one of those where ordinary kids are unwittingly plunged into an extraordinary world where they must struggle against unimaginable evil to save the world, not to mention themselves, except usually in those books the kids discovered they had super-special top secret powers perfectly suited to thwart that particular evil. Or at the very least the kids have been Chosen somehow, they’re fated to save the world. Charlotte had no powers of any kind and was not fated to do anything except, perhaps, get a C in math.

  But as they drove up to the airport hangar where the small jet awaited them, blanketed by the dark of the night, she suddenly felt that she’d fallen out of a book and right into a major summer blockbuster movie, with car chases, lots of special effects, and a very big set budget.

  Of course, in movies, when you pulled up to a private jet, you were usually in some sleek black sports car or limo; you were never, ever in a dented banana yellow hatchback that looked older than you. Fate liked to keep Charlotte firmly fixed in reality.

  They drove all the way up to the foot of the sleek white jet, and Mr. Metos motioned to them to stay in the car as he ran out and had a few words with the tall man in a dark overcoat who was waiting for them. As the cousins watched, the man handed Mr. Metos a manila envelope and then disappeared into the night. Mr. Metos opened the door then, hurrying them out of the car and up the stairs into the jet, but not before handing Charlotte the envelope.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your passport.”

  “Oh,” she said, impressed.

  As Charlotte stepped into the Prometheans’ jet and surveyed her surroundings, she thought that if the circumstances had been different, she would have thought this was the coolest thing that had ever happened to her. Actually, she reflected, even given the circumstances, it still was; with big, plush, leather easy chairs arranged around tables, wood paneling, thick carpeting, and what seemed to be a kitchen in the back, she felt that she could pretty happily move right in. She glanced at Zee, who was looking back at her, eyebrows raised. They had experienced quite a bit in the last year, but getting spirited off in a luxury jet was rather different from walking through the pitch-black, bug-infested, slime-ridden caves that led to the Underworld.

  They sat in two cushy chairs on either side of the aisle, and Mr. Metos took a seat facing them. Charlotte looked out of her window into the night and tried not to think of what she was leaving behind.

  “Mr. Metos,” she asked, as the plane was taking off, “what’s going on in the Mediterranean?” So much had been happening that she had not kept track. Guiltily she thought how nice it was to have that luxury.

  Mr. Metos exhaled. “It does not seem to stop. We are managing the best we can. Unfortunately, one problem seems to lead to another. At first the gods seemed to be just playing, but now old rivalries are coming to the fore. The Temple of Athena in Athens was hit by a lightning bolt and burned to the ground. You know the archeological site Ephesus was destroyed? There were two giants who fought on opposite sides of the War on Cronus. One lived at the bottom of the sea, and without Poseidon to keep him there, he has gotten out and challenged his old rival to battle. You know the results. We were fortunate it happened at night. If tourists had been there…” He shook his head.

  “There’s more,” he said, eyeing them seriously. “Someone’s been blowing out doors to the Underworld. There are monsters escaping—and maybe getting in.”

  Charlotte’s heart tightened. “The Dead?”

  “The gods’ mischief will not stay contained to the Upperworld. The Underworld gods have always ignored the Dead, but now…”

  Charlotte closed her eyes. “Can’t we do anything for them?”

  “We will,” Mr. Metos said. “We will. It’s our job.” They sat in silence for a moment, visions of the Dead haunting Charlotte’s thoughts.

  “But it’s not just protecting people,” Mr. Metos continued, changing the subject. “Keeping the truth under wraps is getting harder. There was a Minotaur rampaging through the Athens suburbs, smashing up streets. He put seven people in the hospital before we got to him. We had to leak a story about an escaped mental patient in a costume. There was even an Internet site cataloging all of the more suspicious events.”

  Charlotte started. The blog! “I saw that. Did you take that down?”

  “Well, not I. That’s Hector’s job. The Internet has posed a curious challenge to us, it provides a place for people all over to share stories and theories. Under normal circumstances, the Immortal intrusions are few and far apart enough that we can cover them up, but if someone put all of this together…”

  “But I thought it was your job to protect humans against the gods, not keep their secrets for them.”

  Mr. Metos frowned. “Well, it’s the same thing.”

  “Why?” Charlotte asked.

  “Why?”

  “Why shouldn’t people know? Shouldn’t they know the truth? Especially now.” Charlotte could hear her voice getting high. “People are scared. Wouldn’t it be better to know? I mean, by keeping the truth from people, aren’t you being just like the gods?”

  She could feel Zee shooting her a look, and Mr. Metos eyed her coldly. “Hardly,” he said. “There is a delicate balance that exists. We are trying to preserve it. Remember, like it or not, humanity exists
at the pleasure of Zeus. We would like very much for that to continue. He flooded the world once when he was displeased. If it had not been for Prometheus…”

  Charlotte blinked. “Really?”

  “Prometheus had the gift of prophecy,” Mr. Metos explained. “He foresaw the great flood, when Zeus decided to destroy humanity after Prometheus stole the sacred fire, and warned his son Deucalion, who built a boat—and he and his wife survived the flood.”

  “Oh!” Charlotte knew the story of Deucalion but had not remembered he was Prometheus’s son. “So he was like the first Promethean.”

  “You could say that. He certainly protected humanity; he ensured its very survival.”

  “Not to mention his own,” Zee murmured.

  A small smile crept over Mr. Metos’s face. “You could say that, too.”

  “Greek mythology is very big on sons,” Charlotte said, trying to be casual.

  Mr. Metos’s eyes fell on her. “I suppose,” he replied. “Listen, I have work to do. The chairs recline, and there are pillows and blankets underneath the seats. I think you should get some sleep.”

  And with that, Mr. Metos was up from his seat, leaving Charlotte to reflect on his reaction. It was very late, though, and she was very tired. She reclined the chair with the intention of just dozing a bit, and fell fast asleep.

  In her dream, her mother was looking all around the house, searching in closets and drawers and under beds for something she would never find. I have it, Charlotte wanted to say, I have it right here—but she could not speak, she could only watch as her mother’s search grew more and more desperate. The scene changed—Poseidon was barreling down on her, followed by Sir Laurence, followed by her dad on water skis, shouting, I’ll protect you, Lottie! And again—she was running through the Underworld, chased by a giant Chimera, but instead of a lion’s head it had the head of Philonecron, spitting fire at her. I’ll get you, my pretty, he said, and your little dog, too! And again—she was in a cell in a cave in total darkness….

  Ah, this dream. The first parts happened as if she were watching them on fast forward—darkness…cell…cave…light…and then the girl, surrounded by Dead. Charlotte’s heart broke at the sight of them, she wanted to reach out, protect them all. She stepped out of her cage and she was falling into blackness, and somewhere her conscious mind expected her to jolt awake, but this time she kept falling until she landed with a thump on the ground.

  Ouch. Even in her dreams, she got abused. It took Charlotte a few moments to recover before she could get her bearings, but once she did she forgot all about her pain.

  She was in another cave room, and in the center there was a small but intense fire, and somehow, as one knows these things in dreams, Charlotte knew it was the source of flickering light that she’d seen from her cage. Of course, there was no opening in the roof, no way for Charlotte to have fallen inside, but that didn’t matter. What mattered were the strange markings she saw on the walls.

  Gingerly she got up to get a closer look. They were like prehistoric cave drawings, but much more sophisticated, and they were moving. Charlotte stared at the pictures one by one, following them from beginning to end. The girl’s voice:

  Do you know what you’re looking at?

  Yes. There’s a great big blue guy, and some other little people running around naked. Other than that, no.

  Oh, come on, said the voice, exasperated.

  And Charlotte awoke with a start. That girl was getting on her nerves. Zee was muttering to himself in his seat across the aisle. Charlotte leaned in and heard, “E marks the spot!”

  She stared. He said something unintelligible, and then she heard, quite distinctly, “Seek the belly button!”

  His eyes popped open, and he saw Charlotte gaping at him.

  “What?” he asked defensively.

  “You were talking in your sleep!”

  “Strange dream,” mumbled Zee, and promptly fell back asleep. And Charlotte did too.

  The next thing she heard was Mr. Metos’s voice telling her to wake up. It took her a moment to realize where she was, and when she did she felt her heart tighten. Outside the plane it was light. She couldn’t imagine what time it was at home, or whether or not her parents had woken up yet to find her gone.

  She turned her head to look out the window, expecting to see—what? A brilliant sun, Grecian temples and cypress trees, and goats roaming free on the airport grounds? Whatever it was she was expecting, it was not what she saw, which was pretty much what you’d see at any U.S. airport—a gray sky, a big hangar, lots of blacktop, and in the distance some towers. An odd noise came from Zee’s direction.

  “Huh,” said Charlotte. “This is Greece?”

  Mr. Metos turned to her. “Greece?”

  “Um…yeah…”

  “No, we’re in London.”

  “What?” exclaimed Charlotte.

  “Oh, brilliant,” muttered Zee.

  Charlotte eyed her cousin. He had never expressed a particularly strong urge to come back to his home city, and judging by the look on his face, he would have been perfectly happy to go a few more years without returning.

  “Our headquarters has been here since the 1830s,” Mr. Metos said. “We came here during the cholera epidemic.”

  “During?” Zee asked.

  “Yes. Ares had decided to spread a little plague, so we had to find a way to stop it. And we stayed. It’s always been a good place to keep your eyes on the world…and it’s an easy place to blend in with the crowd if you need to. We do have a satellite office near Delphi, which, as you might imagine, has been rather busy lately. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get your bags.”

  After he disappeared into the back of the plane, Charlotte turned to her cousin. “You all right?”

  “Sure,” he said with a shrug. “I just wasn’t expecting this. It’s sort of ironic, isn’t it? My mum and dad sent me away from here for my protection, and now we’ve come back for my protection. It’s weird, I’ll be so close to them, but…”

  Mr. Metos came back and collected their passports. Then they gathered their things and stepped outside of the plane onto a staircase. A black car was waiting for them below. A thick layer of gray clouds blanketed the sky, and the air was cold and wet, and Charlotte regretted the shorts and tank tops she had packed. They descended the stairs, and another man got out of the car and placed their bags in the trunk.

  “This is my colleague, Teodor,” said Mr. Metos, introducing them. “Teodor, this is Charlotte Mielswetzski and Zachary Miller.”

  Charlotte straightened herself and shook his hand in her most adult-like manner. She and Zee were under no illusion that the Prometheans were just going to let them sign up for adventures, like open activity period at camp; they would have to convince them. Or else Charlotte and Zee would just sneak out and follow them. They were not going to be stopped now.

  There was an official-looking attendant waiting inside the hangar, and as Charlotte and Zee climbed into the car, Mr. Metos went over and handed him their passports and a thick envelope that Charlotte had a strong feeling contained a rather large sum of money. The man left, Mr. Metos got into the car—and then they were off.

  As they drove, Charlotte stared out the window, thinking of what was behind her and what lay ahead. Other than the road signs, the world did not, in truth, look that different from the world she’d just left—it just had a grayer sky and greener grass. They passed railyards and warehouses covered in graffiti and shiny office buildings and large billboards advertising candy bars and all-soccer-all-the-time channels. But as they drove on, she began to see, among all the familiar modernity, stone farmhouses, little churches, and other buildings that gave the impression of being impossibly old.

  In the front seat, Mr. Metos and Teodor murmured back and forth to each other. Charlotte strained to hear. Next to her, Zee sat slumped in his seat, looking straight ahead at the seat in front of him.

  “As we get into town,” Mr. Metos said, turning to th
em, “it might be best if you did not show your faces out the window. We should not be seen together. Remember, you are missing now. If someone should happen to recognize you and see me with you…well, I would very much prefer not to be arrested.”

  “Oh,” said Charlotte, thinking of the note she had left for her parents. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to mention Mr. Metos after all. He turned back around in his seat, and she stared at the back of his head uncomfortably.

  Slowly the sprawl consolidated into actual city, and Charlotte was surrounded by jostling cars and crowded sidewalks. Double-decker buses and black cabs roared down the wrong side of the street, and tourists poured across crosswalks. They turned into a neighborhood comprised of skyscrapers intermixed with classic-looking white stone buildings, all set around thickly winding roads.

  “That’s it,” said Mr. Metos, as they pulled up to a curb on a narrow, winding side street, pointing to the building in front of them.

  It was a four-story building made of smooth white stone. If there were any sunshine at all, and if the narrow street let in any light, the white facade would actually have been quite lovely. As it was, the marble adopted the damp grayness of the street. There was a set of stairs leading to two glass doors flanked by iron railings, and on the side was a bronze placard that read, SMITH AND JONES IMPORT/EXPORT, EST. 1832.

  “It’s in an office building?” Charlotte asked.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Metos. “What did you expect?”

  An underground lair. A cave with narrow tunnels, leading to a nook with beeping computer equipment and a guy wearing headphones, transcribing radio signals. A secret vault filled with money of every currency, another nook with someone forging passports, a hidden weapons chamber, a dusty library filled with crumbling maps, a dungeon full of rabid spiders, and of course a bright, shiny room where someone worked full-time getting Mr. Metos jobs at Hartnett.

  “It’s right out in the open. The gods really can’t—”