Chapter 35

The hellhound growled a deep resonating sound from its chest. Opal stood frozen in place, eyes wide and breathing shallow as the glowing eyes shifted in its sockets. It just stood there in front of her, and that's when she realized it couldn't see her. Of course, it must be difficult to see from eyes that actually emitted light rather than absorb it, seemed like a rather poor design. Maybe if she stayed still long enough it would leave her be. So, she stood like a deer, paused by a crack of a twig off in the bush. There was a drip of sweat that rolled down her spine, tickling, daring her to lose control and shiver.

The beast took a step forward, its nose mere centimeters from hers, blowing volcanic air down her throat. She bit her tongue to hold back the whimper. She heard the gravel crunch under its massive paw armed with knives for claws, if it took one more step forward it would find her. As quietly as she could she unlatched the case of her violin. With a quick swipe she yanked the instrument free and hucked the case as hard as she could into the darkness off to her right. The beast exploded in swift motion, jaws snapping. When her lungs separated enough oxygen from the syrup of gasses in the air she screamed without intention.

The hellhound hadn't lunged at her though. She realized when she didn't feel the pain of muscle being parted by dagger teeth. It had, however, heard her scream. It stood a much more comfortable ten yards off, her violin case smashed under its paw. It snarled and snapped in the general direction its perked ears had narrowed in on. The tears started when the beast started taking slow places towards her. She clutched her instrument in her hand at her side, but she couldn't play it from there. Taking in a shaky breath she summoned the courage to whip her violin up to her shoulder. The hellhound instantly locked onto the movement and jumped into a barreling charge.

She fell to the side, her crossed arms breaking her fall on the gravel and her violin tumbled out of her reach. She scrambled after it and with shaking fingers whipped it back to the ready. She turned to see the beast running down on her again, she began playing. She turned her face to the side in an effort to shield it while she forced herself to keep playing.

Opal had been bit by a dog once. It had been when they were living in Victoria, when her mother was working at the record studio. She was holding her father's hand as they walked the shores of the Pacific, the damp sand squishing under her toes. They were out of the city; her father always took her out of the city in his endless attempts to escape it. The gray landscape of suburbia behind them and the natural greens and browns and blues filled her vision.

"Look over there Chickadee," her father crouched to her level and pointed at some brown and white birds off in the distance. They were running around the sand on their stilt legs, poking at the ground with their pointed bills as they following the incoming and outgoing waves.

"What is it daddy?" she looked up to him and asked.

"They're sandpipers," he told her, "they're eating little worms in the sand."

"What does a sandpiper say?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he said, "we'll look it up when we get home."

"I want to get a better look," she dropped his hand and slowly tiptoed over to the birds. As she approached they scattered, she turned to send her father a beaming smile, the mess of blonde curls on top her head bouncing, "They look so silly daddy." Giggling she turned to chase them. John didn't see the lab in the sand grasses. He was watching his daughter, smiling at the amazed look on her face as she pointed at the birds' legs, blurring together as they ran. He heard someone call and he jerked his head around to see an elderly man stumbling for the bounding lab.

"Opal, no," John scrambled to his feet nearly falling face first into the sand, heart exploding in his chest. The dog was faster and closer, it latched onto his little girl's leg, dropped her to the sand.

"Daddy," she screamed and reached for him, tears springing into her eyes.

"Opal," he yelled back, charging down the beach, sand flinging out from under his feet. He had never run that fast before in his life. He punted the dog in the ribs and with a sharp whine it fell back. He scooped up his daughter, gluing her protectively to his chest. The lab got to his feet again and jumped with teeth bared. With a strong swipe, John pinned the dog down by its neck with his free hand, refusing to let the squirming animal up until its owner got there. Oh, and when he did get there, John would not spare any feelings.

That was the pain and the terror Opal remembered as the hellhound closed down on her. She tried to guess what the feeling would be from a dog twenty times the size of a lab, but the crunch of muscular jaws never wrapped around her. No boney knifes sunk into her flesh. She opened her eyes and peeked over. The dog was curled in a sleeping ball, laying in the middle of the path.

"Oh my god," she breathed shakily on shallow breath and tiptoed away. She held out her hand in front of her face to watch her nerves cause her fingers to quiver. She swallowed hard and decided to keep playing her instrument as she walked, hoping it would still any more monsters in the shadows. Finally she came to a lighted clearing, pomegranate trees growing around its perimeter, she allowed herself a moment to relax in the security of the light. A shiver passed through her as she shook off the terror the dark had blanketed her in.

There was a splash of water and her violin was up like a soldier poising a gun, at the ready. Her breath was heavy as she peered down the inky water of the Styx, heart hammering as the silhouette of a boat drew closer and closer. The ferryman, Opal couldn't recall his name. He was hooded in a cloak. The only thing visible were his red, scaly hands, fingers tipped with claw like fingernails and his glowing eyes peering though the shadows cast over his face. The boat sliced through the water, over to a flattened section of land just a few paces from her. He groaned and held out a greedy hand in her direction. Right, she needed to pay him. She had a ten in her pocket, was Canadian an acceptable currency?

Pinching the neck of her violin and the bow in one hand she fished into her pocket for the crumpled bill. Holding it out to him he snatched it up and wafted it under his nose to smell, with another sickly groan he waved her aboard. The temperature was cooler over the water. They slowly maneuvered downriver from the tight tunnel Opal had found herself in. The ceiling opened into a vast cavern. There was enough light to see the barren cliffs and mountains, the green, eutrophic waters she floated on. She gripped her violin tightly on her lap as she watched the miserable place unfold around each river bend, the whips of sunken ships sailing along with the ferryman's solid boat.

She was dropped off at the gruesome gate to a throne room, skulls and bones struck together to form an enormous arch. She took in a deep breath and shook out the fingers of her free hand, gaining her confidence to walk under and through. For you dad, she closed her eyes and ignored the hallow sockets of the skulls watching her.

The throne room was like a Greek temple, enormous columns holding up the roof, views of Hades' domain between them. The Lord of the Dead was sitting on a golden throne, set at the top of a stairway. He watched her approach, his large form intimidating as he sat straight with his chest forward. Slowly Opal walked over the blue and white swirls of the tiles beneath her feet, she stopped in front of the stair steps and offered an awkward bow. There was a deep howl that shook the building down to its frame, Opal took in a sharp breath and snapped her head around.

"That's just my puppy," Hades waved the sound off and giggled.

Opal sent him an unbelieving look and rubbed her ears, she most defiantly didn't expect the God of the Underworld to sound so, flamboyant.

"What can I do for you mortal?" he asked her.

"Umm," she bowed again before she made her request, "my father just passed –"

"No, most definitely not," he cut her off and stated firmly, "I'm sorry, if he's dead he's not leaving."

"Hades, your deathliness," she gave an attempt at flattery, "I am a descendant of Orpheus."

"Orpheus?" Hades looked forward with curiosity.

"Yes," Opal nodded, "I thought maybe I could play you my violin for my father like he did for his wife."

"Interesting proposal," he leaned back in his throne, rubbing his black beard in consideration, "If you impress me, I'll offer you the same deal I did Orpheus. If you can lead your father out of the underworld without looking back at him, I will allow him to go."

"Yes, thank you," she nodded and poised her violin when he gestured for her to play. Opal's heart was pounding with anticipation as she performed. When she finished her song she stood frozen for a moment, the bow resting on the strings of her violin. She sucked in a much needed breath and dropped her instrument to her side. Looking up to the Lord of the Underworld she found him slouched back in his throne and smiling blissfully. Realizing she was finished he exploded from his seat and danced down the steps to his throne. Opal startled at his sudden movement, and staggered back a step as he rushed towards her. He took her by the wrists and twirled her in a circle.

"That was lovely, just lovely," he finished his little duet with her and then ran up to his throne again like a giddy school girl. Opal knew the worry for the god's sanity was plastered all over her face, but she couldn't help it. Seated again Hades called for Thanatos to collect up her father's soul. She smiled in relief.

"Thank you," she dipped her head several times over towards him.

"Now have Charon take you back to my Perseph-a-nephy's garden, Thanatos will meet you there," he said, receiving him another skeptical and concerned face from the girl, "and don't forget, don't look back."

"Yes Hades, thank you," she bowed at her waist and turned back for the ferryman.

With immense contempt Opal cringed at the horrid sound of a bow being pulled across her violin, her violin. She heard Charon's haunting laugh as he continued to create amateurish sounds on the instrument. Why couldn't she have considered that the ferryman didn't do round trips? She'd still have her violin if she had.

Her irritation was forgotten when she heard the beat of thick wings and then felt the swoosh of hot air wash over her. She clenched her eyes shut and prayed it wasn't a monster behind her, no matter what she wouldn't look back. She wouldn't look back. She heard the thud of weight meeting solid ground and her mind raced in anticipation, waiting for whatever was behind her to claim her death.

"Opal, Chickadee."

"Dad," she laughed as the relief spread through her, like the warmth from a mug of hot chocolate after an afternoon out in the snow, "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he said, "I can't believe your here."

"Yeah, me either. Are you ready?" she asked the dark void stretching out in front of her.

"Let's go," he said, "I'm right behind you Chickadee, don't look back." She took in a deep breath and nearly gagged on the strong smell of rot. She didn't have the security of what appeared to be her only defense in this place, no, now Charon was defiling it with his inexperience. Slowly she started a ridged pace down the trail, praying they wouldn't run into another hellhound. Even with the terror of attracting attention to them Opal couldn't help but call back to her father every few minutes. Every time he answered with, 'I'm right behind you Chickadee, don't look back.'

They approached the section of the path she had been ambushed, her breathing became shallower as she scuffled through, the beast nowhere to be seen. She did find her shattered violin case, lying open on the trail. Little good it would do her now.

She let out a deep sigh of relief when she saw the bright promise of the living world blink open. The light swarmed her vision and pricked at her eyes acclimatized to the darkness. She shielded them and squinted towards the exit.

"We're almost there," she could hear the excitement and the joy in her father's voice, for the last few yards of the journey he reminded her, "I'm right behind you Chickadee, don't look back. I love you, don't look –"

"Dad?" she froze in the sudden fresh air of Persephone's solarium. Panicked she called for him again. Why wasn't he answering? What had happened to him? Where was he?

"No, Opal, don't look back," Percival screamed at her, but she was going to turn around, her body was already making the motion. There he was, her father, his scruffy face struck with horror.

"Dad?" his name leaped from her chest, struck with the devastation of what she had just done. He hadn't yet exited the underworld, just one step away to joining her again in the land of the living. He started to recede back into the darkness, being pulled by some invisible force. His lips were moving and his arms were stretched out to her.

"No, Dad!" she sprang for the portal.

She broke through just long enough to hear his words, "Chickadee, tell your mother I love –"

She was yanked back, the wall of Persephone's solarium reforming.

"NO!" she screamed, her voice pitched and broken. Dropping to her knees and hunching over she buried her face in her hands, tears running hot down her cheeks, "Dad, no, I'm so sorry, I know now. I know why Orpheus looked back. Dad, I couldn't hear you. Why? Why, Dad, I'm so sorry."

"Opal," the voice was gentle, "Let's go home."

"No," she shoved the hand on her shoulder aside, "Just leave."

"Ugh," Percival groaned and stepped away, "Chickadee –"

"Don't call me that," she shot, starting off strong before her voice crumbled into tears, "That's what Dad… called…"

Percival sucked in a deep breath, pressing his fingers into his temples. John was a good man; he didn't deserve to be caught up in all of this. It wasn't fair his daughter had to go on without him, but that's how it was. He could wait for her to settle before he took her home, it was the least he could do for her.