Chapter Forty | OPHELIA BYRD
OPHELIA WALKED ALONE as she led them from the tantalizingly beautiful Fields of Asphodel. Instead of carpets of flowers made of sparkling jewels, her feet hit black gravel and shards of slate.
You must lead them, Ophelia. No one understands the Underworld like you.
She would. She would lead them all. They still had the Lyre of Orpheus. The quest could still be won. And if these gods, these ungrateful parents who played puppetmaster refused to help, so be it. So much the better.
You see it now.
Not looking back, Ophelia started back up the small hillock into the Fields of Asphodel. She could hear Alex just behind, careful footfalls quiet and precise. He always moved with purpose.
Does he have the strength to see it through, Ophelia?
Purpose bound them. It always had. Those days on the Princess Andromeda with Alex, training to defend herself with a blade, those days had meant everything. For years she'd lived alone scrounging in dumpsters, going from homeless shelter to homeless shelter. Twisting the Mist came early to her. It was easy to avoid the police.
People didn't like her. Ophelia wondered how much of that was due to the way the temperature would drop when she entered a room, or maybe the way the shadows darkened. Or perhaps mortals, even through the Mist, could sense the darkness in her.
Don't fear it. It is your birthright.
She had found the dark corner of the bottom deck of the Andromeda a week after they'd boarded. Alex liked the dark. He didn't fear it. He never had. For hours, when she wasn't busy weaving the Mist that kept the mortals on board in a peaceful trace, they would train or tell jokes or just sit in silence in the shadows.
Ophelia's arms ached from swinging the celestial bronze sword against Alex. His anger had practically radiated out from him at every swing. No wonder he'd liked the dark; it cooled him off. Sweat had plastered his blonde hair against his forehead, blood trickling from a tiny cut on his cheek from the small scratch she gave him. With one hand, he had grabbed his shirt and wiped the sweat from his brow.
The scar across his stomach had glowed in the light of their battery powered electric lanterns. It had caught her breath. She'd seen a lot of bad things in her life, but as she stared at this boy's abdomen, she had never seen a scar like that.
He'd caught her staring. Ophelia shivered. Those pale blue eyes had narrowed in suspicion. But when she didn't ask, he hadn't turned his anger on her. He turned it on his father. Days of cursing the name of Hermes under his breath had followed.
But does he have what it takes, Ophelia? Here and now?
Alex had bent a knee to Hades. When his scuffed and battered knee had hit black marble, she'd stopped breathing. When she'd forced him to process his mother's death on the terrace of the Kennedy Center she hadn't meant for it to turn him into a supplicant. She'd only meant for him to control the rage. He needed his rage to save the living. He couldn't bring back the dead.
He can't.
He can't. Alex bumped into her as she stopped two steps from the top of the hill.
"O?" he said.
You're fine.
"I'm fine."
Alex came to stand beside her as they reached the summit. Kitty took up a spot on his right. The Fields of Asphodel stretched out before them. On the horizon of the soft grey grasslands dotted by black trees, Ophelia saw the towering overpass system Daedalus and his crew worked on.
He toils as punishment.
A fitting one.
The gods spared him from eternity in the Fields of Punishment. Your siblings aren't so lucky.
A scream filled her ears. Roiling fire, crackling and waxing and waning like a stormy sea. The Andromeda had weathered many storms. Hunkered below decks with Alex by her side, a steady warmth in an otherwise cold place, she remembered those nights fondly. Luke had played checkers with them once. Alex had never smiled more than when his half brother entered the room.
Help me!
Samuel? Ophelia's eyes snapped open. Pain filled her chest as she could just see the haze of fire on the horizon.
They need you.
Please Ophelia!
Luke died a hero. Why?
It hurts!
"Ophelia?"
Ophelia, listen to them.
"Ophelia?"
Ophelia!
She jumped as a hand touched her back. "What!"
Alex's blue eyes narrowed as he stood beside her. He didn't remove his hand. Her pounding heart slowed as she focused on his touch, on his warmth.
"Are you okay?"
She forced a half smile. "I'll be happy when this Lyre reaches Olympus."
"That makes two of us," muttered Kitty. Nico had given her a black scarf strap to tie the instrument to her body but her hands rarely left it. "We need to get moving."
"Agreed," Alex said. "It's easier to navigate out here. I can take the lead for a bit. If you want."
Why?
Ophelia!
You're strong enough to lead. Do it.
"No," she said. "I've got this, Alex. Let me lead."
Silence filled the air between. The temperature dropped as his lips pursed. But he didn't complain. He held out his hand for her to start down the hill.
It's not far.
The ghosts parted for her. Like the shadows that licked at the edges of her fingers, staining the tips black as she allowed the darkness to strengthen her breath, the Dead seemed to listen to commands she didn't have to utter. A buzz filled her veins, a spark running beneath her skin.
Feels good, does it not?
The first time she'd felt like this, she and Alex had been hiding out in a cold, damp warehouse. Rain had pounded the metal roof. With each thunder clap, Alex's mood had deepened. The sixteen year old had tried to distract himself by making finger puppet silhouettes against stacked shipping containers with a dying flashlight.
Luke, and Hecate, had sent them on a simple mission. It was supposed to be simple. They had a weapon to recover, something that her mother had promised would be priceless. Ophelia had gazed up at her mother that day, eyes wide in excitement. Stygian Iron only responded to Underworld demigods. Over the course of several years, she had learned to treasure the gift of the shadows. Now, she would receive another gift, this one cold and metallic and hungry for blood.
Alex had volunteered to go on the quest without hesitation. Her mother hadn't been happy about it, but she wasn't in the habit of interfering with demigod business, especially not the children of other gods. Luke had sent along a son of Nemesis, Cody. He seemed to think that three should go on a quest, not two.
They'd made it to Detroit all but unhindered. Most monsters had let them pass when they'd sworn their allegiance to Kronos and those that didn't died screaming to the celestial bronze swords of Cody and Alex.
There'd been a lot of screaming that evening. Ophelia sat beside Alex beneath the pounding rain on the roof, pushing up against him to escape the growing puddles from leaks up above. He had been silent since the storm began. As she had slipped her hand into his, she could tell his thoughts lingered on the bloody, silver arrow-riddled body of Cody Brown.
They'd run into a small scout force from the Hunters of Artemis. Neither trio had seen the others coming, but they'd had the benefit of Night. The Hunters had shot Cody before they'd reacted, but Ophelia had held them in place with tendrils of shadow just long enough to give Alex time to slit their throats. That's when the storm began, and that's when Alex had fallen silent.
They hadn't had a choice. The Hunters would've killed them without hesitation, just as they'd killed Cody.
As she'd watched Alex making another fox in the light of their flashlight up against the shipping containers, Ophelia had sighed. She'd released his hand.
The smack of metal against concrete had pulled her attention back to reality. Alex had dropped the flash. She watched him scramble up and away from the now broken flashlight. A circle, like a spotlight of cold light, still shined against the shipping containers. Instead of a faceless rabbit or fox she saw the priceless silhouette of a blade.
Ophelia hadn't hesitated. She threw her hand out on instinct. The silhouette rattled. Another blast of thunder rocked the warehouse as the rain grew even fiercer. Ophelia gritted her teeth. The joints of her right hand ached. But the sword shadow jostled violently as the darkness began to stain her fingertips.
Her hand had been black as the void when the Stygian Iron dagger had ripped through the shipping container and nestled itself in her palm.
You deserved that dagger, and you deserve more than you now have. What has been your lot in life, Ophelia? To toil and bleed for gods and titans who treat you as a pawn?
Ophelia, please!
And yet, as abused as you have been, have not your siblings been treated worse?
You can't just leave us!
You can't leave yet.
"We can't leave yet." Ophelia paused beneath the broken boughs of a black tree.
Kitty laughed. "Are you kidding me?"
"Not yet," she said.
"You can't be serious!" Kitty patted the Lyre. "We have the Lyre, we know the way out of here—"
Selfish.
Ophelia sneered. "We wouldn't even be here if not for you!"
Alex stepped between them, blocking her view of Kitty and the golden Lyre. But he didn't face Kitty. He faced her. He waited.
"I need to see it," she said.
"See what?"
She took a deep breath. Pointing to the red-tinged horizon, she said, "The Fields of Punishment."
"Ophelia—"
"I need to see it!"
He doesn't trust you. Look at how his eyes narrow. He thinks you're weak.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't think it was necessary," Ophelia said. "I'm not leaving until I see it."
Alex put a hand over his mouth, not speaking. He turned from her towards the horizon. He could stare at the distant fires all he wanted. She would go with or without him. She had to. She had to see them.
Help us, please.
They need you.
Please, I'm begging you!
Ophelia, he needs you.
"I need you to look at me, O," Alex said, lowering his voice and moving one step closer. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that this is the right decision."
She didn't hesitate. Drawing herself up as taller as she could, she took a step closer to Alex, closing the gap between them to almost nothing. With his hot breath on her cheek, she said, "I'm not leaving until I see it. Then we go."
Alex looked down at her, inches from her face. He took a moment just to breathe. In the tense silence, she held his gaze unflinching.
He backed away. Alex turned to Kitty. "Come on. We've got a pit stop."
Thank you.
Thank you.
"Thank you."
