Page 14 of Guided by the Stars
“Where am I? Where is Nora? What the hell are you two freaks of nature?!” I shout glaring at them both. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know this isn’t a dream. “Where the fuck did you get these cuffs?”
Icicle Eyes walks around behind me and shoves me. “Welcome to the Underworld, sweetheart. Now get moving.” A full laugh escapes my throat because I must be getting punked, right? I meanthe Underworld?
“You’re fucking kidding, right? Like Greek mythology or whatever? Is this what you all do to have a laugh at the tourists?” I ask, because if it is, they win, hands-down, for being so creepy and convincing. I look around because Nora must be in on the joke too, why else would she have been snatched?
I glance behind me, noticing a small opening where light is spilling through. It has to lead to the outside, although I know I’ll never make it if I try to run. If I can keep track of my surroundings, maybe I can make it back and escape.
“Not sure what you’re talking about, but this isn’t a joke. That was a good punch, but you just made an enemy of the one person who could make your life easier. Now go,before I throw you over my buddy’s shoulder,” Icicle Eyes says, his tone cold. “As for the cuffs, I made them. So get fucking moving.”
I listen to him and get to walking. I can keep better track of my own movements and concentrate on things that will help me get out of here. The only way to go is down a path ahead of me. I start to walk the path lined with torches. It is doing little to keep the cold at bay. Skulls and bones are all around the wall, as if we have stepped into the Catacombs of Paris. Chills shoot down my spine, and I do my best to not get too close to the walls. The two guys are behind me as we come up to a ferry, where a hooded figure stands with an oar in one hand and the other held out. There are many other people crowding around me, all trying to get to him.
“Hey,” I say, reaching out to touch him, my curiosity getting the better of me. As my hand nears his shoulder I can feel the cold radiating off of him. The man is surrounded by a bluish glow. The glow around him is so icy that it hurts my hand. I jerk it back quickly and massage it until warmth returns. “Don’t waste your time, they’re souls of the dead,” the brown-haired guy says. Shocked, I peer around, zeroing in on the souls placing something in the skeletal hand of the Ferryman. I recall this from a lecture of Bill’s once, he spoke of the ferryman who helps the souls cross. This must be Charon, not a man at all, but something else entirely. His eyes are the most strikingly horrible feature he has, they glow red under the hood, and a scream bubbles up in my throat. I brace myself to run, my legs are ready, my heart rate picks up, and adrenaline courses through my body. The only problem is the two guys standing like pillars at my back.
There are plenty of souls that don’t cross, they are fighting amongst themselves. Those must be the ones that can’t pay. “No payment, no crossing,” he says in a gravelly voice. Bill’s lecture left so much more to be imagined. My palms are sweaty and I can’t focus on any one thing.
I inch myself back, hitting a hard chest. Icicle Eyes’ arm stretches out, displaying his stupid black leather biker jacket. Jax places a coin into the skeletal hand. Charon raises his head to look at us and bright crimson eyes stare back at me. Someone shoves me again and I get on the boat. I try to maintain my distance from all of the souls on board, including my two adult-nappers. They end up following closely behind me anyway. Once I’m far enough away, I look down into the water. It’s black, pitch black. There isn’t even a reflection. My stomach drops and the hair is standing up on my arms. I bump into Jax’s arm and he steadies me, keeping his hand on the small of my back. I stay close to him because even though I want to run, I don’t want to fall off the boat.
The ferry moves and I inch myself closer into Jax’s arms. Everything is so dark. An emerald mist rolls off the water and the further we go, the colder it gets. I look back to where we got on the boat, at the many souls standing there who can’t pay, and I wonder what will happen to them. I have the fleeting feeling that I should jump into the water and take my chances.
Glancing over into the water once more, I begin to faintly make out strange things floating underneath, twisting into strange shapes. I can’t even make out what they are and decide it’s a risk I’m not willing to take at this point. I can feel these two jerks staring at me. I keep my gaze away from them and school my face so that I don’t give away my emotions. Even though fear is running through my body, I don’t plan to give up.
Nora
When Dropped into Olympus
“Adriane?” My voice is raspy, scratching against my dry throat.
I swing my hands up, wrapping them around my neck as I pray for the panic to loosen the grip it holds me by. Instead it builds, my throat constricting, blocking the air from my lungs and making it feel almost impossible to breathe.
No! I can’t lose her.
I’m drowning in the pits of despair, choking on dread as my heart drums hard against my chest. It picks up speed as unwanted memories from the past flash before my eyes. Fear is winning, holding on, squeezing my muscles tightly, and its strength is knocking me to the floor.
I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing my mind only on the darkness to help guide me. My body rocks, comforting itself, trying to regain control.
1...2…3...
I count to five and back again, tapping my fingers to match the rhythm, like the therapist assigned to me taught me. Eachtime, I take a deep breath in, filling my chest full of air, then slowly release it along with my fear.
I’m in control. This anxiety attack will end.
Minutes pass before the heavy pressure on my chest decreases and the hot sweat against my skin grows cold as my breath evens out. I’m on the floor, knees digging into the cream wool carpet beneath me. My arms wrap around my torso, holding on to what little dignity I might have left.
I heard them even over my yelling that kept them away. Gods, Zeus, Mortal World, Aegean Waters, it all makes no sense. Yet here I find myself, in a house they tell me is in Olympus. In a room surrounded by eerie silence, with two pairs of eyes focused in my direction.
I need to get a handle on this. Five things, that’s all I need.
I open my eyes, keeping my head steady, and peer around the room. Straight ahead, there’s a couch. It’s an older, mid-century type with two large, beige cushions scrunched together and encased by an armrest on either side. To its left is a wooden rocking chair with a matching pillow. Both sit behind a dark cherry wood coffee table. It’s the same table I ran to grab the books I threw at the assholes earlier.
A sigh leaves me and I force my head towards the left. The guy who peeled the knife away from me leans his toned body against the doorframe, probably keeping me away from the kitchen. He’s relaxed, with tatted arms hanging loose by his side and a small reassuring smile plastered on his annoyingly good-looking face.
I twist my head toward the freak who grabbed me. His large powerful frame blocks what looks like the front door. He’s a little taller than the other one, yet both are a lot taller than I am. He stands at least a head above me, with sandy brown hair hanging in his face. It’s shorter than the otherguy’s, allowing me to see his narrowed eyes that are staring at me with such an intensity that my body trembles. Pins and needles shoot across my skin in reaction to the big, angry beast looking right at me.
I stand, turn, and back my way towards the coffee table. I’m smart enough to keep both guys in my line of vision. The beast straightens himself and takes one tiny step forward, while the other tilts his head to the side, almost as if he’s inspecting me closer. This situation is beyond belief, but could their bullshit gods story be true? I felt the knife sink deep into his flesh. Blood splattered out, leaving my hands stained with red specks. Yet he’s healed.
I catch my breath, refocusing myself. Panic will get me nowhere, I’ve learned that lesson.
“I’ll play along. Gods exist, and I was about to wake Zeus up. But that doesn’t tell me where A’s at,” I say, focusing my attention on the less intimidating, more tatted one.
