Again, sorry that this chapter is a little shorter. And that my A/Ns are full of typos along with everything else because apparently I'm only capable of catching mistakes AFTER I publish them. Sorry!
Alex
The judges didn't ask me any questions, like I expected them to. Instead, they looked into my mind, pulling thoughts and memories from my head like picking flowers.
It was a very strange feeling, having my memories sorted like that. The best way I can describe it is...like straining spaghetti.
"Defeated Phoebe," one judge said, his voice deep and rough. "Prevented a civil war between the gods."
"But monster attacks have increased sevenfold since she was killed!" the second judge protested.
"Hush!" the third judge said. "This conversation is not for ears of the dead."
The judges turned back to my thoughts in unison, their golden masks staring—literally—into my soul.
"One-thousand and fifty-nine counts of theft," the second judge said, disgust in his voice. "A common burglar."
"She was homeless!" The first judge seemed to be on my side. The second judge was not. I wondered where the third judge stood.
"A choice that she made," the third judge chimed in. "She chose to leave the foster care."
Finally I found the courage to speak. "They were beating the children! What was I supposed to do?"
The judges ignored me, which I found frustrating to no end.
"She did endure beatings," the first judge argued. "It shows her strength of character."
"Not so," the second judge said. I was starting to dislike him. "That merely shows her physical strength. She still ran away, leaving the other children to their fate. A cowardly act."
Cowardly? Why, that little...I was beginning to realize that this trial was in no way weighted in my favor. My greatest achievement—defeating Phoebe—had barely been spoken of for more than a few moments. And monster attacks had increased since her death? How could that possibly be my fault? Was I just supposed to let her continue ruining my life? If I had, I would have been kicked to the Underworld two years earlier. Then, of course, I would have been accused of cowardice.
"We must convene," the third judge, a note of warning in his voice. He waved his hand towards me before I could react, and instantly everything went black.
I wasn't sure how long I was out for, but when I came back around the first judge did not look happy. Well, as unhappy as he could look behind his mask. His arms were crossed. The two other judges were unreadable.
"Not enough evil," the third judge said. His next words cut into my chest like the blows from a hammer. "Not enough good, either. I am sorry, Alexandra Clayton. Your soul will be consigned to the Fields of Asphodel."
x x x
There was only one word to describe the Fields of Asphodel: boring.
Seriously. It was like a large crowd had gathered for a sports game, maybe football, but the game had been cancelled. So all of the fans were left wandering around the field like homeless people. And I should know—I used to be homeless.
The Fields of Asphodel had black grass that had been trampled underfoot by thousands of spirits wandering aimlessly around. Every once in awhile, I could see a black poplar tree sprouting from the ground, but that was it. Nothing else except the dead, whispering nonsense as they passed.
Grover was wrong. A wheat field in Kansas sounded entertaining compared to this.
I sat at the base of a poplar tree and looked up at the top of the cavern. Large stalactites bigger than my house hung overhead. If I were still alive, I would have to worry about being impaled by one of them. That was the one upside of being confined to this place for all eternity.
I couldn't help looking for familiar faces in the crowd of dead souls, but I didn't see anyone I knew. Most of the spirits looked angry or unbearably sad. I was somewhere in the middle.
I had been cheated, for whatever reason. Why? Why would anyone be concerned with where I ended up once I was dead? It wasn't like I could tell anyone what I had discovered while I was down here—a fact that irked me.
I wondered briefly if I could Iris Message someone who was still alive, but I immediately dismissed it. Even if I still had a drachma left, there was no source of water in the Asphodel Fields, nothing to create a rainbow. And besides, I wasn't even sure if it would work. I was sure being stuck in some otherworldly cavern for the dead was terrible for reception.
I wasn't sure what was going to happen to me while I was here for all eternity, and that almost scared me more than the Fields of Punishment. Most of the spirits seemed to have no idea who they were, and they muttered nonsense as they passed me by. Would I become like them one day?
I stood, deciding to do something with my not-life. There was a spirit over there that wasn't moving. I was going to talk to him.
In a couple of ways, the spirit sort of reminded me of Liam. They shared the same brown hair, though this spirit wore it in a messy style, like they had just rolled out of bed. They even shared the same green eyes. But this spirit looked like he was thirteen, and there was nothing in his eyes except a terrible tiredness. He wore a gray robe just like everybody else—except me.
"Hello," I said to the spirit. He turned to face me, looking even more haggard. "Who are you?"
Okay, stupid question. The spirit looked at me blankly, but then he said, "I don't know."
Gods, he even sounded like Liam. A younger version, perhaps, but still him. I pushed the ache in my heart aside.
"Okay," I said, trying to think of something else to ask him. "Well, how did you die?"
That seemed to spark something in the spirit's eyes. "I…" he started. He straightened suddenly. "I was hunted by a monster."
Now we were getting somewhere. "Were you a demigod?" I asked.
The young spirit shook his head. "No. I...was a mortal that could see through the mist."
I remembered what Liam had told me about those. He said that some monsters hated mortals who could see through the Mist because it ruined their disguises. He had also told me his brother Jake had been killed for the same reason, and I instantly felt sympathy for the younger spirit.
"What happened?" I asked him, hoping to jog the spirit's memory. If he could remember, maybe there was hope for me.
The spirit thought about that for a moment, thinking hard. "I...my friend and I were messing with a draconae. He was a...son of Hermes, I think? Yes, that sounds right. We ran away, but the monster still found me at my home in Nashville."
No way.
"What was your friend's name?" I asked, my mind dizzy with shock. Maybe if he could remember his friend's name, he could remember his own. Then I would know for sure.
That seemed to be the hardest question for the spirit to answer. For a solid minute, he just stood there while I waited in anticipation.
Finally, he said, "Alfie."
I gasped. "Jake?"
Jake looked at me, a fog rolling away in his eyes. "Yes, that was my name. How do you know me?"
I was so shocked that I staggered forward, thinking of Liam, when my hand collided with Jake's shoulder.
Suddenly, I was sucked into a memory faster than I could blink.
It had been a Saturday, two weeks after we had escaped from Atlantis. By this point, my broken ribs had healed fine and my arm was as good as new, thanks to the nectar and ambrosia I had consumed by the dozen. I had just gotten my driver's license as well, making my idea perfect.
I had asked Liam out at school on Friday, and he had agreed. But I hadn't told him where we were going, so he was delightfully clueless as I picked him up at his mom's house in a large minivan.
"Where did you get this?" he asked with a laugh.
I shrugged. "Lawrence finally got a car other than his police cruiser." I handed him a black blindfold. "I hope you don't get carsick."
Liam scoffed and tied the blindfold around his face, placing his glasses in his lap next to his teak cane. "Please. I can fly, and you're asking me if I get carsick?"
"Well," I said, starting to pull the car out of his driveway, "there's a plastic bag in the middle if you change your mind."
It wasn't that long of a drive to our destination, and as I handed the man in the booth our tickets through the car window, Liam took a long sniff through his nose.
"Are we where I think we are?"
"You weren't supposed to be able to guess!"
"Sorry. We're not where I think we are. Better?"
I sighed and pulled the car into a parking space. "Fine, you can take off the blindfold."
"Yes!" Liam ripped the dark blindfold off of his head, only to reveal that he was staring at a full parking lot. "Um...what?"
I smiled, glad that I could still surprise him. "Here, let me show you."
I walked around and helped him get out of the minivan. Then I led him to the trunk, where the true surprise was. In front of us yet behind the car was a large screen in the middle of the parking lot, where an ad for popcorn was already playing.
"You remembered!" Liam exclaimed, smiling widely.
My stomach was so full of butterflies that it took me a moment to respond. "Well, yeah. You said you liked drive-in movies, so...here we are. But it gets better."
I turned around and opened the trunk with a flourish, revealing the items I had packed there. There was a mini-cooler filled to the brim with Grape Crush, Mountain Dew, and root beer, along with a little pint of ice cream. There were also some pillows and a blanket in the corner. With the way I had parked the car, it provided the perfect way to watch a drive-in movie.
"Woah," Liam said from behind me.
I wasn't sure why I was so nervous. But his next words pushed that all away as he wrapped his arms around me.
"It's perfect," he said in my ear. "And so are you."
I snapped out of the memory, gasping like a beached fish.
"What the hell was that!"
UgH I made myself cringe when I read over this. If anyone has a different recommendation for the ending of this chapter, it would be welcome. And the best way to do that is through a review! Seriously, though. I don't have that many views on this story yet (what a surpise) so any tips on what I can do better would be great. Thanks!
My dad gave me this joke. It's a sequel to the previous one.
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs hanging on a wall?
Art.
