Four: Manhunt
Phoebe was so spoiled. She always got what she wanted. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes at their father and that was that. And now, somehow Leo was stuck doing the grunt work of Phoebe's oh-so-modest request.
His twin wanted a sleepover. Never mind that he and Keene had already been planning for ages on using the tree house. She wanted it for her party, which she had suddenly decided just last night to host.
"Let your sister have it, Leo," Mr. Archer said sternly.
"But Keene and I wanted it first!"
"Keene can come over whenever he wants. Phoebe can only have a party every so often."
"This isn't even a birthday party! She wants a party just to have a party."
The tree house had a smaller counterpart deep in the woods that Phoebe might or might not use during her sleepover, but she suggested that someone should still check to make sure it was safe and not rotting away. Mr. and Mrs. Archer were preparing the food, and Phoebe was busy entertaining her guests. That left only one person to make the hour long round-trip to the watch tower, as the smaller tree house was called.
"If I ask for something, I'm spoiled. But if she asks for something, she's 'such a darling and how could we possibly deny her?'" Leo muttered as he stomped a pinecone. The unfairness of the world was crushing.
He was getting his revenge, though. He'd invited Keene to come crash the party and bring as many other uninvited guests as he could find. Hey, it was his home, too. Phoebe got the tree house, and Leo got the actual house and all its internet, video games, and junk food.
Leo had taken out his anger on enough pinecones by the time he reached the watch tower. Unlike the tree house, which could fit ten people and had rope swings, its own lookout tower, screened windows, and glass bottles and wind chimes hanging from nearby branches, the watch tower rested in the highest oak tree, fit a maximum of four, and had a single rope ladder. But Leo liked it because if he wanted to be alone, he could roll up the ladder and stay inside as long as he wanted.
He tugged on the ladder as a precaution, to test its strength, before he dared to climb up. He hadn't been in the tower in years. He opened the trapdoor and coughed from all the dust he had displaced.
Leo grabbed the small broom in the corner and swept all the dust out. Even if Phoebe didn't use the tower, he might in the future. He checked the floors and walls, making sure nothing was rotten. Everything was satisfactory, and he was about to leave the tower when he felt someone watching him.
Alert, he quickly pulled up the ladder and shut the trapdoor before moving to the window. The forest was still.
His heartbeat slowed back down to a normal pace. Then he heard faint, ghostly laughter. "So paranoid, Leo…"
A low, growling sound resonated through the woods. The noise unnerved him even more than the voice.
"Run, Leo. Now. There's still time."
Something in his gut told him to listen. He threw the trapdoor open, tossed the ladder down, and half-jumped, half-climbed the twenty feet to the ground. He raced through the trees, and all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.
The growling sound was long gone by the time he reached home. He could hear everyone on the back porch, including Keene and some other guys, but all he wanted to do was go to his room and sleep.
Which he did.
Mrs. Archer woke him an hour later. "Your friends are almost done eating."
"Not hungry." Leo buried his face in his pillow.
"You should eat something if you want to join them later. They want to go in the woods and play some kind of game."
His eyes widened. Without another word, he ran out of his room and downstairs. He skidded on the porch and was momentarily blinded by the setting sun.
"Sleeping Beauty awakens!" Keene shouted.
Leo counted Phoebe's guests. Connie, Elizabeth, Irene, Ivy, Sage. And it looked like Keene had invited Mitchell, Reed, and Dante King.
Phoebe shoved a hot dog into Leo's hands. "Eat up, sleepy head."
He obeyed, but it tasted flavorless and stuck in his throat. He continued chewing as he observed the others. Keene and Irene were fighting over the last cookie. Connie, Elizabeth, and Sage were huddled by the flowerbox, whispering. Mitchell and Reed were debating something. Ivy and Dante were in deep discussion.
The last pair surprised Leo. He wasn't aware Ivy and Dante knew each other.
Phoebe was watching him with a look of concern. "You look troubled."
Leo swallowed the last bite. "Phoe –" His voice was raspy. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Phoebe, do you really have to go to the woods? Why don't we stay in the house?"
"If you're feeling sick, you don't have to come with us. The others really want to play manhunt."
Everyone was going to be off by themselves in the woods. At night. Making lots of noise. How comforting.
"Phoebe, I really don't think we should go in the woods," Leo hissed.
"Why not?"
Because there were monsters and ghosts in there. But Phoebe wouldn't believe him. Who would? "There's some kind of wild animal in there. It's not safe."
Phoebe's dark gaze met his amber eyes. "You can't lie for your life, Leo. What's the real reason?"
He clenched his jaw. "Forget it. I'll play. I can be It." He knew the woods like the back of his hand. The faster everyone was found, the faster they could all get out and away from whatever that beast was.
Keene had already heard several people being caught. Leo was faster than he'd thought. But Keene was still faster, and he was determined to be the last one.
His senses were on super-alert from all the adrenaline. And the sugar he'd consumed. He was so far away from the others, all he could hear was the sound of grass being crushed beneath his running feet.
But that stupid silver pen kept stabbing him in the leg. It was in his pocket. Why did he bring the useless thing with him? It couldn't even write. It just looked cool and that was it.
No time to hide the pen. He shook his head and focused on the game. In manhunt, the hunted had two options – keep moving, or stay still and hide. He preferred to move.
It was a new moon, or close to it. He wasn't very good at astronomy, and the treetops were thick. He only had instinct and his lessened eyesight to go by.
That made it more fun.
He heard more footsteps chasing him. Keene grinned and turned to see who it was.
The smile disappeared instantly.
"Shit!" Keene put on an extra burst of speed. There was an insane, rabid beast at his heels, and it looked hungry.
Keene reached up and snapped a tree branch backward. It smacked the beast's head and slowed it down long enough for Keene to put more distance between them.
Then he tripped. On a goddamn tree root. He fell forward, face racing for the earth.
He flew off the ground.
Keene shot up ten feet in the air. He jerked left and right, up and down, slammed into trees, got scratched by branches. His pen slipped out of his pocket.
He caught it by the tips of his fingers. Then his flight plan decided to dive and head straight for the beast. Keene panicked and swung at it.
His pen immediately grew into a short staff and made an audible crunching sound against the beast's head.
While the monster was down, Keene glanced down at his shoes. Little wings were sticking out the sides. He slowly reached up and touched the side of his hat, which had miraculously not fallen off during his Flight from Hell. More wings.
He tried to steer up. The beast regained its senses and growled at him. Keene cursed again and pumped his legs furiously, and he shot straight up in the air. More branches scratched his face, and then he broke through the treetops.
The starlight and little moonlight blinded him for a moment. Then he began to bounce and ricochet off of the trees, until one of his bounces missed and he fell back down to the ground, crashing through more branches.
Scratches were everywhere. There would be quite a few bruises in the morning. Keene groaned in pain as he lay sprawled on the grass.
Someone applauded, long and slow. He frowned and managed to sit up.
It was that girl who had been with the Fates. She had a smirk on her face. He'd only ever seen her three times, including now, but she seemed to have only two expressions. Bored and smirking.
She gave her last clap. "Good job. I didn't think you'd live through that."
"Who are you?" he croaked. His throat was parched. He could taste blood and dirt in his mouth.
She shrugged. "I can be your best friend, or your worst nightmare. Take your pick."
Keene personally chose the first one but didn't say so out loud. "Why do you keep following me around?" He coughed and spat on the ground, trying to get rid of the nasty taste.
She handed him a bottle of water. He seized it and chugged it down, choking halfway, but he was so thirsty he didn't care.
"I don't," she said in response to his last question. "I wait and watch for any of you. You're just the only one who noticed me."
His throat was much better. "What do you mean, any of us?"
Her face darkened. "That's a story I best tell all of you. Should we find the others before Cerberus' cousin eats them?"
Keene's brow furrowed. "Cerberus? The three-headed dog that guards the Underworld? He's not real."
She shook her head in disappointment. "I thought at least you would have an open mind. But if you're still not convinced, by all means, go ahead. Just wait here and see if that hellhound doesn't kill your friends."
"I'm only saying that I don't think Cerberus is real!" Keene argued. "But I know there's something out there."
"That something is a hellhound."
"They aren't real!"
She closed her eyes and started mumbling to herself. "If the others are all like him, I'm going to have a lot of work to do, as if I didn't have enough already…"
She was insane.
"You can just stay right here," Keene said, turning his back on her. "I'm going to get my friends so that thing doesn't kill us all." And maybe call the nuthouse on her.
"You don't believe in hellhounds, but it's normal for you to suddenly start flying? Do you take it in stride when your pen magically changes into a caduceus?" she demanded.
Keene looked at the aforementioned object. He scowled. "I'm not going to sit around talking with someone who thinks pixies and leprechauns are real. I'm going to help." He prepared to take off.
"I was serious when I said that I was surprised you'd survived." Her words made him stop. "Your short flight was just a fluke. You don't know how to do it again, and hellhounds only take so many hits to the head before they decide to just kill you already."
That was it! "ARE YOU GOING TO HELP OR NOT?" His voice echoed in the forest.
She stood, alert, when they heard howling again. "Great. Now I have to go with you," she griped. "As we speak, the hellhound is heading this way. I can handle it, but I'd rather you not become dog food."
Someone screamed. The hellhound howled again. "Come on!" Keene started to run.
She suddenly appeared in front of him, leaning against a tree. "Lessons will have to start early," she said unenthusiastically. "So you're the rightful owner of the magic cap, flying shoes, and caduceus. Lucky for you, you have a shortcut. Say ptísi. And it is very important that you get the pronunciation right, or you may end up doing something not as pleasant."
"Ptísi," Keene repeated. He slowly rose in the air.
"Then use your caduceus to help steer. Point the head – that's the end with the snakes – in the direction of where you want to go, and focus. The closer to one hundred and eighty degrees you angle the caduceus, the faster you go. Enjoy the ride."
Keene looked at her, annoyed, before shooting into the sky
Shortest chapter yet. Sorry about that. Hehe. But brevity is better than rambling, inane, contributing-not-to-the-plot dissertations?
...So, anyone watch the TV show The Borgias? It's about a family called (you guessed it) the Borgias. I freaking love it. (And no, not because of Assassin's Creed...) But I won't jabber about it here, since I'm not sure how many of you watch it.
Well, the full manuscript for this story is currently under consideration by an agent. Won't be hearing back from them for months, probably. Whatever their answer, I'll probably be crying when I hear it (be my tears from joy or sorrow). A few other agents are still only at the query process.
Anyway, as always: reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy, and critiques help me grow as a writer. ^_^
(I'm also feeling the dire urge to discuss Greek mythology with someone. ^.^)