The Immortal (13 page)

"Alecto," Sryope whispered to herself.

The girl's heart had stopped.

Doctors rushed into the hospital room and began to work on her.

The Fury. The impostor was Phthia's father, Sryope realized, the one who had impregnated Tyche. Who could say what was the sex of a demon? Sryope realized she should have seen the truth earlier. There was only one class of beings that could change shape and fool a god—the Furies. Had that not been the way Tyche had been seduced in the first place? Also, the thorny noose around Phthia's neck was the same one Alecto had used to bind Sryope when she had been captured on Earth.

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The doctors applied pads to the girl's chest.

Electrical shocks were sent into the girl's heart.

The body leapt off the bed.

The heart did not start.

The doctors tried again.

The monitors had gone silent.

The doctors began to back away. One man said she was gone.

The goddess, the Fury Alecto, grabbed the screaming Phthia by the hair and let out a wicked laugh. She thrust Phthia into the girl's body.

The monitors in the hospital room began to beep again.

The doctors reacted with joy. They began to work on the girl again.

The Fury pulled back on Phthia's suddenly limp body.

The girl on the bed opened her eyes.

Alecto fled the hospital room with Phthia's lifeless goddess body in her noose. They descended through the floor this time. But no one in the assembly could see that it was a Fury.

Because it looked exactly like Sryope. Just like her.

Sryope understood.

Alecto had forced Phthia's soul into the body of the girl the moment the mortal's soul had fled. There was after all, Sryope realized, a way for an immortal to become a mortal.

The records of Minos came to an end.

The silence in the hall was deep.

Minos stepped up to Sryope. "Do you have anything to say?" he asked.

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Sryope glanced at the crone, Alecto. The Fury was smiling, its hideous dog's head dripping human blood on the floor at its feet. The demon understood that Sryope had divined the evil scheme, but the crone also understood that no one would believe Sryope if she tried to prove her innocence. She could not go back and deny her earlier statements, while trying to explain how the Fury was capable of changing form.

She could not admit to knowing who Phthia's father was. Minos had built up the case against her from many angles. The records were merely the last stroke.

Sryope wondered if Alecto had fooled even Minos, if he was not merely a puppet in this vast play. She supposed she would never know.

Sryope appealed to Apollo. "You know, O Lord, that I am innocent," she said. "Can you not save me, your humble servant?"

Apollo was unmoved. "It is your responsibility, Sryope, to save yourself."

Sryope lowered her head. "Then there is nothing I can say." She turned to Minos. "I will await your decision on my punishment."

Minos nodded solemnly. "All the gods will decide what is a fit punishment for you, Sryope. If there is a punishment great enough."

Sryope was thrown into a prison cell on Mt. Olympus while the gods conferred. There were no guards and none was needed. The prison walls were stone taken from the center of the Earth, and the iron bars had been wrought by Hephaestus himself, the famed

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but ugly god of blacksmiths. There was no possibility of escape. Sryope was alone with her thoughts.

"Apollo leaves me to this unrighteous punishment," she said aloud to herself. "Although he knows I am innocent. Why?"

She could not understand his mind. But even though he had abandoned her in her hour of need, Sryope found it impossible to resent Apollo. Indeed, as she waited for her punishment, which she knew would be horrible, she prayed to him.

"O Lord," she said. "I did commit wrong by forcing Phthia to a challenge I knew she could not win. And I did wish to break her pride when I told the disguised story of her true parentage. I see now it is my own pride that has been shattered. So be it. But I did these things out of love for Aeneas and had no real desire to harm Phthia. I ask for your forgiveness, Apollo, at this time of my doom. I only pray you can hear me, and that your grace will be with me no matter what happens."

Minos came for Sryope not long after. He stood outside the iron bars and read aloud her sentence from a scroll of gold paper, while she sat on the floor of the prison cell.

"It has been decreed by the gods of Olympus and the deities of the Underworld that you, Sryope, daughter of Thalia, should suffer the same fate as Phthia. You are to be taken this moment by Alecto, chief of the Furies, to Earth. There your soul is to be thrust into the body of the daughter of the writer whose heart now burns with disease as a result of the

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touch of your filthy hands, and who this very moment lies near death in a mortal hospital. Your divinity is to be stripped from you, Sryope, and you are to wander a helpless mortal among mortals, until the day your body falls and your soul is brought before me in the Underworld, where, I assure you, you will be judged most harshly." Minos paused. "Have you any last words, Sryope?"

"Yes." She stood up and smoothed her robe. "First, I would say once more that I am innocent of these crimes. Second, I am not surprised Alecto has volunteered to inflict my punishment, since the crone is the true perpetrator of all these crimes. Finally, my divinity cannot be stripped from me. I am a child of the immortal light—it is what I am. Whether I am in heaven or Earth, or even in the dungeons of hell, I will always be Sryope."

"Proud words," Minos acknowledged with a slight bow.

She held his eye. "You will not see me again, Minos. I have the gift of prophecy. I know it."

Minos did not speak. He turned to the side. Alecto was suddenly there, her thorny noose in hand, blood, as always, dripping from the side of her canine mouth. The prison door was thrust open, the noose was thrown around Sryope's neck. Alecto grinned fiendishly and Sryope felt a hard yank. She was being pulled through the floor, through region upon region of light, until finally the light faded and she was in the hospital room of the daughter of the writer. It was true, the girl was dying. The doctors were gathered 177

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around her bed. The beeps on the monitors had ceased. Alecto bent her head toward the lifeless body.

"I will remember this," Sryope told Alecto. "I will avenge myself."

"You will remember," the crone agreed. "But the memory will come to you too late. Phthia will always be one step ahead of you. Your mortal life will be short and end in bitterness. Then you will be with me in hell for eternity."

"Apollo," Sryope started to pray. But at that moment she was thrust into the body of the dead girl.

And the girl opened her eyes and looked around.

The doctors were relieved.

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I OPENED MY EYES AND LOOKED AROUND. I WAS IN A HOSW-

tall bed in a small white room that smelled of rubbing alcohol. The two doctors at the Mykonos health center were present, as were my father, Silk, and Helen. My friend sat on the side of the bed near me and held my hand. The doctors appeared worried. I was in excruciating pain—my entire body felt as if it were about to explode.

"How do you feel, Jo?" my father asked. The poor man. The previous night I had drowned on him and tonight I was in the grip of a deadly disease. I could see it was late from the dark window above me. I must have been unconscious the entire day. I forced a smile for my father's benefit.

"I hope it's not morning sickness," I said.

My father nodded, his eyes moist. "Wouldn't that

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be a tragedy of epic proportions?" He paused. "Are you in pain?"

I nodded weakly. "My whole body."

The doctors conferred. I heard them say the words "The same as the boy." My father sat on the bed beside Helen, who continued to hold my hand. I would have preferred holding my father's.

"The doctors don't know what is wrong with you yet," my dad said. "But they've decided, and I agree with them, that you and Tom—"

"How is Tom?" I asked. Sweat poured from my forehead into my eyes. The pain was so intense it was difficult to talk. My throat was bone-dry. Helen picked up a tissue and dabbed at my skin.

"He Is resting right now," my dad said. "The doctors just gave him a shot of morphine. They can give you one if you like. In half an hour there will be a plane ready to fly you both to Athens. They have better facilities there. They will find out what the problem is."

"Sounds like a plan," I mumbled. I was surprised to see that Silk had been crying as well. The kindly elderly doctor also appeared anxious. Only Helen was keeping her cool.

"Would you like something for the pain?" my dad asked.

I took a breath. "Soon. I'd like to talk to Helen alone for a few minutes first. Oh, where is Tom?"

My father stood up and nodded to a closed door on the side wall. "He's resting next door." He squeezed 180

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my hand. "You'll be on the plane together, and I'll be there as well. Who knows, Jo, if you're feeling up to it maybe you can help me finish the story."

"We will finish it, Dad," I promised him. "Love you."

"Love you," he said.

Silk stepped forward and leaned over to give me a hug. "You get better, Josie, you hear? I need you to sober up my life. You're the only one who can help me."

"You'll be fine," I said, and there was a note of goodbye in my voice. Silk heard it, I believe—her eyes filled once more.

They left me alone with Helen, who watched me intently.

"Could I have a glass of water, please?" I asked.

She let go of my hand and got me one from a corner sink. She held the water to my lips as I sipped. It tasted like vinegar and I coughed. "Not too much," Helen cautioned.

I nodded for her to take away the glass and then lay back on the pillow. There wasn't much light in the room, just a single tired lamp in the corner. There were shadows everywhere, especially on Helen's face.

It was not as hard as one might imagine for me to accept the truth. I think the thing is, I had always known, since I had left the hospital after my heart trouble, that I was different from other people. I just hadn't known how different.

"I guess the cosmic secret is out of the bag," I said.

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Helen nodded gravely. "I took it out of the bag a year ago."

"You were holding my hand when I was unconscious just now. Was that to watch my dream with me?"

"Yes. It was quite a trial, Josie. Or should I call you Sryope? I wish I had been there the first time around."

I wished I had the glass in my hand. I could have thrown the water in her face. "You are a goddamn bitch," I whispered. "What did you do, poison the two of us?"

"Ground-up glass," Helen said. "Fine as dust. I mixed it in with the hamburger when Silk wasn't looking.

You put so much garbage on your burgers, I knew you wouldn't notice. You ordered two, so I put the glass in the two. But Tom ended up with the other." She shrugged. "He never treated me right anyway."

"What does ground-up glass do to the insides of a mortal?"

Helen's eyes shone. "You're suffering from a million micro hemorrhages. Your insides are bleeding. There is nothing that can be done to save either of you. Once the glass has been absorbed by the system, it stays in the system." She nodded. "You will die in horrible pain."

"Well, that's lovely, witch."

Helen's face darkened. "My name is Phthia. I'm a goddess."

"You're a witch from hell and you know it."

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"It is you who will be going to hell soon, not I. You know, Josie, I have friends in high places."

I shifted weakly in the bed, pain radiating from every nerve in my body. "You have a father in the lowest place. You only feigned fear when you were thrust in that body. You knew the records would be reviewed by Minos. Tell me, was he in on your scheme?"

"No. But he played the role we wanted him to play."

I shook my head in disgust. "So you ran to Daddy when I embarrassed you in front of the others. You never could handle your own problems. But I have to admit, you went to great lengths to get back at me."

"Thank you."

"I'm not complimenting you. I think you are a fool. You had to fall as far as me to get me in this predicament."

"I don't know, Josie, I like being mortal."

"You will die just like me. In a few years that body will be dust."

Helen nodded. "Then I will obtain a fresh one. My father will help me. It is not so hard for a Fury to get what it wants."

"What will your
father
want in return?"

"What every Fury wants—human flesh." Helen stared into the distance. "Tonight I will make a sacrifice to my benefactor on top of Kynthos."

"Delos is sacred. The gods of Olympus have never sanctioned human sacrifices."

Helen chuckled. "The Furies sanctioned them be-

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fore the gods of Olympus were born. And it will please them doubly that the sacrifice should happen in a place that defiles Apollo."

I regretted I was too weak to strike at her. "Tom
is
soon going to Athens with me. You will not have him."

"Oh, I'm not talking about Tom. I will use Pascal. I have already talked him into taking me to Delos tonight. He's at the dock now, getting his boss's boat ready."

"But you like Pascal."

"This mortal body pretends to like him.
This
goddess will use him as she sees fit."

I was appalled. Her behavior, for the entire
past
year, had been an act. I thought of Zeus's warning to Tyche, so long ago. The witch will be that harder to see. ...

"Pascal will not leave Tom to take you to the island," I said.

Helen was proud. "He will do whatever I wish. You are not the only one with power, Josie. Even on Olympus, you never suspected how powerful I was."

I snorted. "Your ego was powerful, nothing else. I know why you wanted to get me on Earth with you.

You knew in heaven you could not compete with me. I know why you decided to kill me now. Because I had beaten you once more. I had stolen a young man's love from you. Face it, you just couldn't turn Tom on. Admit it, Helen—or Phthia, or whatever you're to be called. You have an inferiority complex."

Helen was bitter. "Your mouth is all you ever
had
over me. It is all you have now. You and your silly 184

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stories—of what use are they to you now? You are in pain, and your pain is only going to increase. Then you will die and Alecto will be waiting for you with the thorny noose."

"I am not afraid of Alecto."

Helen stood up from the bed. "You should be. I spent years with the crone after you tried to humiliate me. I know what goes on down there. It is not something that can be spoken about with mortal words."

"Are you leaving now? Is this goodbye after such a wonderful year together? I don't get you, Helen. Why did you even bother to take me to Delos when you were just going to kill me when you felt like it? You knew the island would trigger my memories."

"Because I wanted Sryope to know who had defeated her."

I laughed. "You wanted Sryope to beg Phthia for mercy. Well, do I look ready to beg, witch? Do I look defeated? Do I look scared?"

Helen was grave. "You will be scared when the end comes. Ralph was."

"What did you do to Ralph?"

"Introduced him to my father. Poor Ralph—died of very unnatural causes." She turned for the door.

"Goodbye, Sryope."

"It ain't over until the fat Fury sings!" I called after her as she slammed the door shut.

It is hard, in many ways, to be a mortal once you've realized you used to be a goddess. What I wanted to do was leap out of bed, fly through the air, and rain

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down a few thunderbolts on Helen. The worst thing about being human was the pain the body could feel.

As I sat up in the bed, I felt as if every blood vessel in my system was quietly being scratched open.

I was determined not to feel sorry for myself. I had promised Alecto that I would avenge myself, and I had every intention of doing so. But I needed Tom's help—or, rather, I believed that if I could get him to Delos, on top of Kythnos, the seat of Apollo's power on Earth, I might be able to help him. It was a fact the doctors weren't going to be able to do anything for him except keep him sedated until the end came.

Yet my desire to get Tom to Delos was simply based on a feeling I had—that it was the right thing to do.

Even as a goddess I had not had the gift of healing. But my feelings were significant; I possessed, after all, the intuition of a muse.

Before rising from the bed I reached over and picked up a pen and piece of paper that were on the bedstand. I had promised my father we would finish the story and we would. Knowing I was wasting precious time, I still wrote him a long note. I intended to leave it for him on my pillow.

Dad,

I know how the story is supposed to end. The alien home world is really the Earth. Yes, I know the
aliens destroyed it, and that is true
—
but only in a certain sense. There are no aliens in this story.

The people now on Earth are human beings
—
or were once human. But they have
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ruined their planet with pollution and wars and radiation. Over the centuries, they have mutated
until they look alien. For that reason their ancestors, the people who first left for the stars, hate
them. It's like children who become ashamed of what their parents are. In this story it is the good
guys who are the bad guys. The humans want the Earth destroyed so they won't have the
embarrassment of their mutated parentage hanging over their heads as they spread across the
galaxy. At the same time, Vani and her people are not above blame. They did ruin the Earth, and
for that they are sorry. Vani will tell this truth to your hero, David Herrick, just before she dies.

I have a secret to tell you, Dad. I'm not a human or an alien. I'm an angel, your muse, and you
won't be seeing me in the days to come. I'm sorry, I know it will be painful for you. But I'll be fine

—/
have to return to heaven. I know you won't understand a word of this, but if you ever need
inspiration in the future, then just close your eyes and think of me and I will be there. Then maybe
you will understand a tiny bit. I will be watching from the sky when you receive the Academy
Award for your screenplay.

I love you, I have loved you longer than you know.

Your Josie

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