Tempting the Fates

Chapter 37

Bob is an Uncle

Bob

Worried.

Bob was very worried. Little prince of ghosts had never been gone for so long without checking on Hades' tenth-consecutive-recipient of the best janitor in the Underworld award. He even had a new shiny plaque to show Nico. It sat in his room on a shelf next to the others. They all gleamed, freshly polished each week. More when he was worried. And right now? He was worried. Silver eyes looked at the award and the Titan frowned. It was nice, but not as nice when there was no one to share it with… and Nico had been gone for too long. It set Bob's teeth on edge.

Something had happened. Something bad. Something that prevented his friend from letting him know that he was alright. Quests took a long time, he knew this. They could takes months or years. But Nico was on an errand and not a quest. Errands did not take weeks on end. Errands did not keep the eldest child of Hades from returning to the Underworld to check on him. No, Bob thought as he chewed on one of his fingers (a habit Lady Hades often scolded him for).

Nico had been gone so long that one of the Hellhounds, Penelope, had given birth to a litter of puppies. Five in total! All the size of small school buses. The tiniest, somewhere around the size of a VW bug, was his favourite. But even visiting them this afternoon, watching as they ran around their mother chomping one another's tails and shrieking as they play fought, he did not smile. No, it was too long. Nico never missed a new litter of puppies and Bob had had to assist a very distraught hellhound through her first litter. And it had not been easy! She had howled and cried and his arms— there were bites and scratches for days.

Nico had a way of calming the creatures that Bob sadly lacked. He was better as a janitor than as a midwife.

Bob sighed.

As thrilled as he had been, his heart had not been in it. Not when his friend was out there and the Titan had no idea if he was okay or if he needed help. And the more worried he became, the more absent minded. Hades had spoken with him on the first occasion. The second, the ruler of the Underworld had taken him to the side and rested a hand upon his shoulder and said nothing. They'd shared a look. And just as quickly the softness had gone out of his dark eyes and he'd pointed to one of the corridors and demanded Bob tend to it once more. He'd missed some grave soil and cobwebs.

Hades cared, he knew that. Even through his bouts of shouting at himself and the strange aura of confusion and splitting (he wasn't sure how else to think of it) that occurred. When the Lord of the Underworld was himself, he was worried. And so was Lady Hades. She looked forlorn and her spells— which was probably the best way to think of them— were never as severe as her husbands. Still. Her flowers wilted, drooping and littering the halls with their petals. Dry and dusty, not at all like normal. Much harder to sweep up. Brittle and turned to ash at the first sweep of the Titan's broom which really made them grind into the floor. Sweeping wasn't enough. He would try to get up what he could but then he would need to mop thoroughly to rid the floor of the bits that ground down into the stone and the bone. Then, sometimes, he'd have to sweep again. She was a good stepmother in her own way. It was different for immortals. Their love was sometimes rough. Bob knew this, just as he knew he was Bob, even if he'd forgotten much else. Some things were just true. Some things you just knew.

Like how desperately the teenager needed him when he heard his cries all the way from Tartarus.

Bob did not hesitate. He ran straight toward the canyon in the Underworld that lead to Tartarus and he jumped, broom in hand, duties forgotten.

And that was how he wound up climbing across the pock ridden landscape of Tartarus, picking his way down the side of a mountain on a trail the demigods had not been able to follow. Their path was forward with Akhlys, through fields of Misery and across the Chasm leading to Chaos, towards the mansion of night where they would find themselves out the other side and in Bob's company once more. The death mist would hide them from the interested eyes of monsters and Titans alike who'd like to make serve them revenge… or as dinner. It was the shortest way. The best way for demigods. And one that covered their scent.

Tasty like chocolate chip cookies and hot dumpsters. Like Gorgon Sister's Gourmet Grub! Drakon wings, extra spicy. Mixed with vanilla, brown sugar and black pudding. They were different scents. Both of them. The son of Hades was a little more like cloves and brown sugar with a dash of phosphorous. The son of Poseidon, however, was more like fresh lemon zest, steamed muscles and salt water taffy. Just the thought made Bob's mouth water! So delicious! No wonder all the creepy crawlies from the deep followed so close on their heels. If Bob had not known them as friends, he might have mistaken them for dinner. It was a very easy mistake to make.

As he climbed across the landscape, Bob puckered his lips and whistled. It was more spittle flying through the air and half hummed whooshes of air but he'd been trying to learn for the past few weeks. So far, the closest he had come was a partial shriek of air between his two buck teeth which had very nearly been a whistle. Bob was sure if he just kept at it, eventually he would get there. Whistling would be very useful in training the hellhound puppies. Already they were beginning to run riot all over the Underworld. They wouldn't come when he called but if he could learn to whistle, he could teach them to come for miles.

The Titan had just about done it— a faint and airy noise of a thing— followed by three seconds of pure hard won achievement. Eyes wide with wonder, he turned to and fro looking for where the noise had come from, hardly able to believe that he'd done it himself. So ready to congratulate himself, Bob clapped with joy. Unfortunately, he was in the midst of climbing down a very steep slope and without hands couldn't keep himself upright. He promptly fell head over heels, rolling like a log down the side of a far-too-steep hill picking up momentum as he went. The world was topsy turvey by the time he hit the bottom, smacking his head on the skull of some long dead monster. He gave it a half hearted bash with his hand crumbling it to dust for good measure.

"Bob doesn't feel so good." He announced to no one in particular. Rubbing at his silver hair, he could feel a bump forming. That was going to smart for awhile. A quick once over told the Titan that beyond a bruised ego and a few scratches, he was alright. Nothing more to worry about. To his left was the bank of a winding river and to his right, where he had just come from. Behind him the sheer edge that dropped to chaos and ahead, the path he would follow keeping the river to his side. "In just a moment." He reassured himself because his stomach was protesting; he didn't like spinny rides. Tea cups? More like puke cups. No thank you. Carousel? More like caro-hell. Forward and backwards. Those were much better directions. Oh, or up and down! Also very good. Around in circles? No. Circles were his least favorite shapes.

"Bob?" A voice murmured to his left.

"Styx?" He turned and sure enough as he pushed himself to his feet, the Titan goddess was stood before him, breaching the bank of the river. "What are you doing down here?"

"I know. Tartarus isn't exactly the vacation spot it once was." She glanced down with a grimace on her face. She'd stepped on a particularly small pustule that had been about to burst forth with life. Whatever had been inside was now goo on the bottom of her foot. She shook it with distaste and made a gagging sound. "I mean, birth isn't particularly pleasant— I mean the stories I could tell you about my third— but this?" She waved to the landscape around them. "This is vulgar."

In the distance, a particularly large pustule popped. It sent a shudder through Bob. "It is gross… but I had to help deliver puppies…"

"Oh, Penelope!? Has she given birth already?" The goddess clucked her tongue. "How many."

"Five," he beamed proudly as if they were his very own.

She clapped her hands together with delight. "Just what everyone could use. A little cheering up in the Underworld, don't you agree? I mean Thanatos returning was nice but with the boys in Tartarus and the Doors of Death still chained in this dump? Everyone's looking a little glum."

Bob couldn't have agreed more.

"Is that why I haven't seen you as often?" The river, of course, still functioned. It separated the living from the dead, ran its course through the Underworld and briefly upon the world above, but her presence was sometimes missing. Bob hadn't quite figured out how that could be.

"There has been much to do, my dear friend. My waters don't run a great distance in Tartarus," the look she gave him said she was thankful for that. "But much has been happening both above and below. War is coming, Bob, and when there is war there are oaths. There are prices to be paid for the promises that are made and greater ones still for those who break their word." She glanced at him and offered a small smile, though it didn't reach the smooth pebbles of her eyes. "Fortunately, today is one of the…" there was a pause as she picked her words, "easier days. We have demigods keeping their oaths, and in return, I have a gift to bestow upon one of them."

Bob watched as the river goddess pulled a staff from her robes and held it before him. It was nearly a this of his height, and it nearly glowed in the dark atmosphere. Polished and nearly pure white, the body of the staff was long and lean. Upon it were three golden eagles, their wings spread and upon their backs, in stark contrast to the rest of it, was a dark orb. It was beautiful. Bob could practically feel the power pulsing from it, though Styx was not wielding it in such a way as to call upon it.

"Who?"

It was the only question that mattered.

The scepter was powerful, the Titan could feel that much, and he found himself hoping desperately that Styx intended it for his friends. The closer they came to the Doors of Death, the less certain the Titan was about how they'd achieve their goals… unshackling the Doors of Death might be easy enough but already he could smell the pungent odor of large groups of Titans and monsters gathered together. And the noise. It wasn't just the whooshing of air, the crackle of static electric storms in the atmosphere above, but the louder beating of Tartarus' heart and the occasional faint cry of troops. They were heading towards and army.

"Who is the gift for?"

"You will find out soon enough, my dear Uncle. Bring them to me, won't you? When you find them again, bring them to me." She touched his face softly, and gave him one last smile before she disappeared. His cheek was still damp and Bob wasn't sure if it was the river water, or if it was his eyes, but he felt his heart squeeze and wasn't sure what it meant.