“Asteria…mother of Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft and crossroads. I didn’t know she had a cult. Hecate, of course, has a notable following.” He drags a hand down his face. “M-maybe this worship of Asteria was in a tribute to…to all women who survived Zeus? Survived assault? Maybe it’s more of a symbolic name, an allegiance not just to Hecate but also her lineage.”
Bowen pushes away from his desk and begins shuffling through the chaotic bookshelf behind him. Eventually, he pulls out a heavy volume with a broken spine and flips through it. “Here we go—Asteria, mother of Hecate, goddess of the stars, known for dream divination, transformation. She evaded danger by transforming into…” He flips through a few more pages. “An island. A quail.”
“Slow down,” I cut him off, squeezing my eyes shut. “That’s why…”
Why I meet my mother in the Dream Place, why I can shift my soul away from my body. Why I saw the sky alive with stars and fire.But why is my mother trapped?I push my hands into my hair, letting out a frustrated growl. “There’s gotta be something else. Does it say anything about Hades and Asteria?”
Bowen flips through the pages. “Nothing here…”
“What about Hecate and Hades?”
He shakes his head. “Hecate and Hades rule within different realms…but their worlds do meet in the night. Both Hades’s creatures and Hecate’s followers come out with the moon.”
I chew at my lip. If my mother worshipped Asteria and followed Hecate, maybe it was at the crossroads between night and day, good and evil, that she met Hades. But why would he then trap her in the in-between? Why would he care so much about one human woman?
I shake my head harder. “No. Professor, my mom is trapped between realms, and somehow it seems all of my ancestors are there with her. It’s a curse, and I think I’m the only one whocan break it. But I’m lost. All I know is that…my mother knew Hades.” I emphasizeknew.
Bowen picks up his pipe and lights it, taking a deep inhale. Eventually, he asks: “Did your mother cheat death? Did she make a deal with him? Perhaps…there’s some sort of blood debt left unfulfilled.”
A blood debt.Like Orfeo.What had Leo called it?The code of Hades.Another thing I need to look up. My head begins to ache, and I realize I haven’t eaten anything all day. I’ve barely had a sip of water. “I need to get into the catacombs. If I can’t get in there, I…”
I’ll what? Tears spring to my eyes. I’ll end up trapped too. I’ll never speak to Orfeo again. I’ll never set my mother free. Any semblance of a future collapses right before me. I try to hold back my tears, but I can’t fight them anymore. They fall, hot and slow, down my cheeks.
What was I thinking trying to blackmail Bowen? This isn’t me.
Meanwhile, he’s staring at me like I’ve got dynamite strapped to my chest. And I don’t blame him. I’ve lost my fucking mind.
Bowen lowers himself back into his chair. “Diantha, forgive me, but I feel your anger toward me is misplaced. I apologize for insulting you, but you have to understand that my relations with?—”
“I’m not going to tell anyone. I would never do that.” I wipe away my tears with my sweater sleeve. “I would never go out of my way to hurt someone.” I suck down a shaky breath. “I’m just…fuckingdesperate.”
Because the only person in this world who can help me hates me for the way I abandoned him.Because I am also the only person in this world who can help him.
“Look, Friday night we have our field trip. I…will do my best to give you time to explore.”
“The crypt is huge, I can’t do shit in twenty minutes!”
He gives me a look of total exhaustion before taking another long pull of his pipe. “I think I know exactly what you need to see, Diantha.”
Orfeo
The last weeksof January and the first weeks of February pass in the same haze that characterized my life before I met her. One night shift after another, one Bowen lecture after another. Only now the smell of her skin and distant quiver of her blood pulsing through her veins haunts me—like a ticking clock. I start sitting as far back in the lecture hall as I can get away with, without drawing Bowen’s attention.
I know she is near me; Ifeelher. Imissher. But I told her no lies. In this version of my life, there is nothing for us.
The few days I venture out before class, there is no sun. I go to the art studio to work, and I find it is easy to blend in with humans. In fact, they barely look up from their canvases.
I paint the Tyrrhenian Sea as it appears in my memory. Sun dancing on the placid surface. Toffee-colored sand. A cerulean sky with no clouds from horizon to horizon. I understand this is as close as I will get for many years. And though summer heat and warmth will eventually return to Echidna, it will always be night.
In the quiet of the art studio, I hear students whisper.
…another body. Drained of blood.
What the fuck? Is there a serial killer?
…followed by some guy…fucking scary, almost dead…
I know I could turn around, glamour them, and leave with every detail about what they’ve heard. But then what? Nisos is correct; I am powerless. With this information, I’d only suffer more knowing that bad actors are consuming the people of Echidna. However Alfo decides to torpedo Hades House and himself, I am strapped to him like an appendage.
