The Immortal Fire Page 9

  “Are you going to destroy humanity now?”

  He could not stop himself from rolling his eyes. There’d been a pro-Extinction faction among the gods ever since Prometheus’s heirs survived the first flood. They were always sniping at him in the background, always criticizing, because that’s just what some people like to do.

  It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that Hera was the one leading the destroy-humanity crowd. Zeus saw right through her. She just wanted to keep him from speed dating.

  “No, honey,” said Zeus, drawing himself upward. “I made my decision.”

  “I see,” Hera said. “And, in your infinite wisdom, have you decided what we’re going to have for dinner?”

  He relaxed. You see, this is the way the other gods talked to him. With respect. For he did have infinite wisdom, and they all recognized it.

  As for the mortal children, they were a problem and certainly demanded some justice, but he soon learned that the foiled half demon was a grandson of his nut-job brother, Poseidon, and he would surely take care of it. Sometimes you had to delegate. That’s another thing a good leader does.

  So anyway, all was quiet for a few months. Then, as he was sitting in his throne room one day, doing his daily cogitating and snacking on some deep-fried Fig Newtons, Ganymede came in with some more news. His nut-job brother had tried to get revenge, yes—by transporting a cruise ship of five hundred people halfway around the globe, hypnotizing them with a Siren, and setting a Ketos after them. Which was pretty much against the whole “do whatever you want, just don’t let them notice you” principle. But somehow the children managed to abscond with his trident, destroy his yacht, and send Poseidon plummeting to the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea. Not only that, but—

  Ganymede cleared his throat. “Poseidon is missing.”

  Zeus didn’t blame him. If he’d let two thirteen-year-olds steal his great object of power and humiliate him in front of his party guests, he’d go into hiding too.

  So of course it didn’t take long before Hera came sauntering into the throne room, all “Did-you-hear,” and he said of course he heard, he was Lord of the Universe after all, and she was all, “They handled the trident. That alone—” and he eventually had to get a little firm with her and yelled, in his most booming voice, “Quit nagging!”

  Frankly, it was bewildering. Zeus had decided to deal with the Mortal Question by withdrawing from humanity. End of story. He had made his decision; why would he change his mind? That would be like admitting he’d made a mistake, and of course Zeus never made mistakes. He could not understand why they would even question it—the decision was naturally the best of all possible ones, because he had made it. Duh.

  Well, soon after that, there was cogitating and peanut butter olives, and then there was Ganymede and something about a hole in the Mediterranean Sea and gods running around willy-nilly making storms and letting out monsters that were terrorizing mortals. Still, it wasn’t like the whole world was falling apart—just a few bad apples, nothing more. Everything would be fine when Poseidon showed his big blue face again. It was his realm, after all.

  And then something very unexpected happened. Zeus was not even cogitating, but rather taking a nap because things were getting pretty exhausting, when Ganymede came in, hiding something behind his teacup.

  “Um, my Lord?” he said, looking rather unsure about something. “They’ve found Poseidon.”

  Ah, well. “Really? Where?”

  “Well…here.” He held up a large plastic bag filled with water. Inside was a long, round, spiny creature that looked like nothing more than a big fat spiny cucumber.

  Oh, it was Poseidon, all right. Even as an echinoderm, his arrogance was unmistakable. Something about the blue of the creature matched all too well his brother’s skin—easy to tell, since Poseidon liked to show so much of it. Zeus was surprised it didn’t have chest hair.

  “Well, bother,” said Zeus. He was about to laugh—for really it was very, very funny—when he noticed Ganymede staring up at him.

  “Can you change him, my Lord?”

  “Hmmm,” said Zeus. “Well, let’s see….” And so he took out his thunderbolt and waved it around a bit—if you did it just right, little sparks came out and it looked extra tough—but nothing happened. Of course nothing happened. He didn’t have the right artifact.

  “Did they find his trident?” Zeus asked casually.

  Ganymede shook his head.

  Well, that was that, then. So, Zeus got a large aquarium, placed it in the corner of his throne room, and put his brother inside. He decorated it with a little treasure chest, some driftwood, and a small plastic Poseidon statue, which he thought was rather a nice touch.

  So there Poseidon lived, and would live until someone found the trident and they could change him back. Zeus had never thought much of sea creatures, given that his brother had made them all, but he did have to hand it to Poseidon on the sea cucumber. Now, there was a creature. It just hung around at the bottom of the aquarium and ate algae and didn’t talk—which made it a real improvement on the actual Poseidon.

  But as the days wore on and the trident never appeared, Zeus was faced with what you might call a dilemma. He had on his hands a whole bushel of bad apples now. Earth on the whole was beginning to go haywire, and it was beginning to reflect poorly on him. His whole perfect, wonderful plan was falling apart. But it wasn’t his fault, it was the children’s; that was clear. If they’d never interfered in the first place, Poseidon wouldn’t have tried to get revenge. Then he never would have been turned into a sea cucumber, and the sea realm wouldn’t have become an Immortal free-for-all.

  Yes, he had made his decision, but circumstances change and a good leader changes with them. The children had caused all of this, and maybe humanity needed be to punished for it. Zeus hated to give Hera the satisfaction of doing what she wanted, but if those children did one more thing it would be time to make another decision. It would be a terrible bother, of course, and his world would be a little more empty without humans, but sometimes you have to suffer for justice.

  They had one more chance.

  CHAPTER 9

  Smoke and Mirrors

  OH,” SAID MR. METOS. “THE SPEAR BELONGS TO A friend who works for a museum.”

  “Oh,” said Maddy. She glanced at Zee, as if trying to exchange an Isn’t this weird? look with him, and he tried to pretend that seeing a giant, ancient-looking spear in the former English teacher’s car didn’t make perfect sense to him. He could barely take his eyes off it. Mr. Metos had a plan, all right—a plan and a weapon.

  “Madeline,” said Mr. Metos, eyeing the two of them in the backseat, “how are you feeling? It’s been quite a day.”

  Zee blinked. Concern for people’s emotional states was not really Mr. Metos’s strong point.

  “Oh, well, I’m okay,” said Maddy. “It was a little scary, especially when we thought—” She glanced at Zee and shook her head.

  “I can only imagine,” said Mr. Metos, his voice smooth and easy. “We’ll get you home as soon as we can.” He paused. “I have some water bottles under the seat there. Would you like one?”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s nice,” Maddy said offhandedly. She reached down and pulled out a bottle of water. “Zee?”

  “Sure,” Zee said, realizing suddenly how thirsty he was. He took the bottle from Maddy and opened the cap.

  “Zachary,” said Mr. Metos, his voice steady but firm. “Before you have a drink…”

  “Hmmm?” asked Zee, the bottle poised just below his mouth. Next to him Maddy took a long drag from her water and gave Zee a shy smile. Zee looked from her to the bottle in front of him to Mr. Metos, who was looking at Maddy.

  “Maddy!” Zee blurted.

  “Uhhhh,” said Maddy. She turned to Zee, her eyes full of fog, and then collapsed against the seat.

  “What happened?” Zee exclaimed.

  “I knocked her out,” said Mr. Metos.

  “You did what?”
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  “She’ll be fine in a couple of hours.”

  “Mr. Metos!”

  “It’s harmless. Zachary, we need to talk about the Chimera. Do you want your friend to hear?”

  “No, but—Couldn’t we have, you know, dropped her off somewhere?”

  “There’s no time to waste, Zachary. I assume the creature has your cousin?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I’m not going to have any more children exposed to this world, all right?” Mr. Metos interrupted, his voice sharp. “I have enough trouble keeping the two of you safe!”

  Yeah, fat lot of good you’ve done there, Zee thought, slumping back against his seat. Next to him, Maddy slid farther down.

  “Zachary, by just knowing about the gods, you are a threat to them, do you understand? A Chimera has just come to your middle school and snatched your cousin. Do you think that sort of thing happens by accident? Do you think all across America, Chimera are swooping down to earth, abducting schoolchildren?”

  Zee bit his lip and glanced over to Maddy again.

  “I knew something was coming,” said Mr. Metos, as if to himself. “I was supposed to protect you, and then—” He shook his head grimly.

  So Mr. Metos thought it was all his fault. Each of them had been blaming himself, but none of it mattered, because once again it was Charlotte who was suffering.

  “Do you think Charlotte’s…all right?” Zee asked quietly, taking his eyes from the unconscious Maddy.

  Mr. Metos frowned. “I hope so. I must say that it’s very odd that the Chimera took her away. I need you to tell me everything that happened.”

  “Strange,” he said, when Zee had finished. “It’s all so strange. Chimera are dumb, violent creatures. When they are unleashed on a town, usually everything and everyone is destroyed. I don’t understand.” He shook his head. “What direction did it go off in? Do you remember?”

  Zee pointed back behind the school.

  “Hmmm…That’s the direction of its nest…. A compatriot warned me that there was a Chimera nesting in the area, and this morning I was told it was on the move. I went to track the nest, and by the time I found it, well…”

  Right. Zee turned and stared out the window. Rain beat down insistently on the small car, and the black clouds lingered in the air as if they were contemplating staying forever.

  “The spear,” Zee asked, with a glance at the weapon next to him, “is it magic?”

  “It is”—Mr. Metos paused—“special. This spear is forged from parts of the spear of Bellerophon, a hero who slayed a Chimera. There are four of them in the world, and the Prometheans have three.”

  “Will it work?”

  “It’s better than nothing. It would help to have a winged horse, but you don’t happen to have one of those on you, do you?”

  Mr. Metos had turned off the road that led to the upper school and was driving past the shiny skyscrapers of downtown. For a moment Zee imagined the Chimera perched menacingly on top of the tallest building, surveying the city below.

  And then they were driving along the river, past the new developments that had sprung up in the last five years, past the old apartment buildings and seedy shops, past the point where anyone bothered to travel at all.

  “It’s here?” Zee asked quietly, as he surveyed the abandoned riverside warehouses around him.

  “At least it was,” said Mr. Metos. And with that, he pulled off into a small alleyway, then stopped the car behind a large, crumbling brick warehouse that looked as if it might as well have a sign that said MONSTERS WELCOME…GHOSTS, TOO!

  “Now, Zachary,” Mr. Metos said, “I need you to wait here.”

  “What? No!”

  “You don’t think I’m going to let you come in, do you? That beast might be in there.”

  Something began to buzz in Zee’s ears, and he got a very strong urge to punch Mr. Metos in the nose. It was not in Zee’s nature to trifle with authority, but authority was not generally so incredibly maddening. A flood of protests readied to burst out of his mouth—and some not very nice words as well—but all that came out was a sort of strangled exhalation that sounded like the protestations of an exasperated goose.

  “I can trust you to wait here, then,” Mr. Metos stated as he got out of the car and pulled the spear from the back. Zee reached for the door, ready to escape.

  “I’m sorry, Zachary,” said Mr. Metos, turning the key in the lock. Zee frowned at him—did Mr. Metos think he was an idiot?—and then pulled up on the door lock.

  It wouldn’t go. He squeezed himself into the front seat and pulled the lock there, but it still wouldn’t go. Zee let out a yargh, then, bracing himself, kicked the window.

  Nothing happened. He groaned, and then climbed into the backseat, then into the trunk of the hatchback. He did not count on Mr. Metos to be carrying around some sort of tool kit or anything practical like that—no room with all the spears. But the spare tire well had the standard-issue spare tire and what Zee needed most in the world—a tire iron.

  BAM! One hit, and the glass of the back window dissolved into jillions of fragments. With one last glance at passed-out Maddy, Zee burst from the car.

  The rain poured down on him as if in warning, and instantly Zee’s T-shirt and jeans adhered themselves to his skin. Water ran along the ground under his feet, and within a few paces, his shoes were squelching with every step.

  The warehouse in front of him was three stories high and about a quarter of a city block long. Large glass windows lined the walls, most of them broken. In front of Zee was a rickety iron fire escape ladder that led up to windows on the second and third floor.

  Zee crept along the side of the building, cringing with every squishy footfall. There was no sign of Mr. Metos anywhere. He half expected the walls in front of him to burst into flame at any moment, but so far all was quiet. As he moved along, he passed several large windows with thick bars covering them. He peeked into one and saw nothing but darkness. As he crept by the next one, his mind registered a flash of movement inside.

  He turned the corner and found himself in front of a large sliding door that must have been the warehouse’s truck entrance. The door had formerly been locked with a padlock, but the padlock was in pieces at Zee’s feet, and the door itself looked as if a truck had driven right through it.

  Sliding over to the door, Zee peeked into the building. He could see nothing but darkness. He squinted his eyes and peered into the blackness, and that’s when he realized it had no depth at all. Something very large was perched right in front of the door.

  He drew back, stifling a gasp. From beneath the rain, a smell of rotting meat assailed his nose. Well, at least he knew where the beast was. He took a step backward, and his left shoe announced his presence to the wide-open sky.

  Zee froze. His heart threatened to burst out of his body. For several long moments he stood there, as still as a statue, as still as prey. Finally, carefully, as if moving through glue, he bent down and took off his shoes and socks.

  Studying the building, he tried to think of what to do next. Soon something would happen, soon Mr. Metos would strike, soon the Chimera would burst forth from its perch. He needed to get in before it moved away—preferably, given the beast’s preferred method of attack, behind it. And then…well, he did not know. With any luck, he would be able to find Charlotte and get out of there without attracting any attention. Then Mr. Metos could deal with the Chimera on his own, since that was the way he seemed to want it.

  Next to the service door was a long pipe that traveled up the brick wall to the roof, and next to that on the second story was a window with a big broken patch. Zee eyed the wall. The brick was crumbled and uneven—uneven enough, perhaps, to climb up, assuming his hands didn’t slip off the wet pipe or the brick didn’t crumble under his feet and send him plummeting to the ground. No better way to find out, he thought, then grabbed the pipe and started to climb the wall.

  This year at Hartnett they’d done a rock climbing
unit in gym, bringing in these walls that had little ledges scattered all over the place. Unsuspecting students were tied to a rather absurd-looking harness and told to scale the walls. He had thought that it was an utterly ridiculous way to spend your time—strapped to a pulley, pressed against a sweaty-smelling wall, moving slowly from one little blue knob to another until you reached—oh, joy—the gym ceiling. Zee preferred, generally, to stay close to the ground. And now, as he slowly moved from footfall to footfall, pressed against the wet, crumbling wall, using the slippery pipe to support himself while rain continued to pour down on his head, he found he had grown no fonder of the experience.

  It took what seemed to be hours—days—but Zee finally made it up to the second story. Willing himself not to look down, he moved his foot to a spot a few feet below the broken window, grabbed the ledge, and pulled himself up.

  He hunched on the sill, peering into the warehouse. Slowly his eyes began to negotiate the darkness, and he saw thick floorboards below the window, so carefully, maneuvering around the broken glass, he climbed through the window and into the building.

  He was greeted by the smell of mildew, mold, rotting meat, and burnt fur—so strong that it threatened to push him backward. Something scurried beneath his feet. Gathering himself, Zee looked around.

  He could not see much—just the floor a few feet in front of him and some lurking shapes that looked like crates. He strained to listen, but could hear nothing except the rain against the building and the plunk, plunk of drops falling through the ceiling. The Chimera was there—he could smell it, but whatever it was doing, it wasn’t moving. With a deep breath, Zee took a gentle step forward, willing the floorboards not to creak.

  The darkness lifted somewhat, and now he could see he was in some kind of loft. Slowly he crept toward the rail at the edge and looked down.

  He was above a vast warehouse room, largely empty except for some piles of crates and large, heavy chains hanging down from the ceiling. The Chimera, he knew, was right below him, but he could not see it. Nor could he see any sign of Mr. Metos or his cousin. Below and to the left was a series of tall doors that led, Zee realized, to the rooms with the barred windows. The one closest to Zee had a large crate in front of it. He studied the room carefully, and then he noticed a shape lurking behind one of the piles of crates. He stared at it and realized there was a distinctly human form crouching there: Mr. Metos.