The Immortal Fire, Page 2

  It was not long before Zee appeared in the family room, looking rather out of breath. He was staying with the Mielswetzskis while his parents were in London on business, and Charlotte was glad, as she didn’t think she could endure any of this without him. Carefully shutting the door behind him, he whispered, “Any news?”

  Grimly Charlotte filled him in on the day’s events, while Zee listened pale-faced. When she was done, he sat down on the couch, looking stunned. They sat for a moment, watching the images on the TV. A helicopter had flown into the inside of the immense cavern and shot video; the sea just stopped, like a wall of water.

  “I don’t get it,” he breathed as Mew crawled on his lap.

  “I don’t either. Maybe Poseidon was trying to destroy the ship by taking the sea out from under it? Anyway”—she lowered her voice more—“I guess he has his trident back.”

  “Brilliant,” Zee muttered.

  Charlotte grimaced. Zee had never even really seen Poseidon in his full glory. Poseidon had wanted to kill Charlotte before she stole his trident, aided in the destruction of his yacht, humiliated him publicly, and ultimately defeated him with the very timely help of her cousin. He hadn’t really seemed like the type to forgive and forget. And now he had his trident back. And Charlotte would have to spend the rest of her life staying away from oceans, seas, lakes, rivers, and possibly even showers or baths. She was going to be very stinky.

  “But it’s everything. The shipwreck on the island—that’s Circe, right?” In The Odyssey, Circe was a sorceress who lured Odysseus’s ship to her island and turned all his crew into pigs. She and Odysseus canoodled for about twenty years while the pig-men roamed around and Odysseus’s wife waited for him to come home. Men were weird. “Someone was attacked by a woman with a pack of dogs for legs—that’s Scylla. The people turned to stone…there was a Gorgon in the city! In the city! Zee”—she lowered her voice—“they’re letting themselves be seen.”

  Charlotte hadn’t even realized it until the words were out of her mouth—but that’s what was so wrong about all of this, even more than the great hole in the sea. The gods had retreated because Zeus didn’t want to deal with humanity anymore. And they kept it so humanity didn’t know they existed. That didn’t mean they didn’t interfere—some gods used the mortal realm as their playground, and people as their playthings. The policy seemed to be that they could do whatever they wanted as long as no one noticed them.

  Well, people were noticing them now.

  The implications didn’t escape Zee. “Something’s changed,” he muttered, almost to himself.

  Charlotte looked at her cousin, eyes wide. “What do we do? People are going to get hurt.” An image flashed in her mind—the woman being interviewed on TV while the voice-over proclaimed, “It’s the end of the world.” She was just a crazy person, though. Wasn’t she?

  The cousins looked at each other. There was nothing they could do, not by themselves. But they could join the fight. Because Mr. Metos was coming for them.

  Mr. Metos had been their English teacher in the fall, but that was just a cover. He was really one of the Prometheans—a group of descendants of the Titan Prometheus who worked to protect humanity against the gods. The small mischiefs, the under-the-radar interferences, the stray monsters loose in the mortal realm—the Prometheans were there, keeping the worlds apart, keeping people safe.

  And Charlotte and Zee were going to join them. It was all they’d wanted since they’d come back from the Underworld after seeing the condition of the Dead—left to fade and suffer because no one tended to them. But there was nothing they could do.

  Now Mr. Metos was coming for them. Just after they came back from the sea, they’d gotten a letter from him. I believe that you are in danger, it had said. Since Zee had just been kidnapped by their immortal enemy Philonecron and Charlotte had nearly been killed by Poseidon several times over, this news was not exactly new. But the end of the letter was:

  There is something afoot, something that may affect the fate of us all, and I’m afraid you two are involved. My first priority is to keep you safe. I will come for you soon.

  Humanity needed protection—now more than ever—and the cousins were going to help. They were going to be god-fighters.

  Mr. Metos did not say when he was coming—just soon. The cousins’ hearts ached for him to appear, for him to take them, for them to get started. In the meantime, they’d decided they would bone up on their myths so they’d be prepared for whatever awaited them. (It had been Zee’s idea; Charlotte was not prone to extracurricular research.) Zee’s backpack was bulging, and he put it down and began to pull out some books.

  “I got these all from the library. There were a lot, actually. Mr. Peaberry said Mr. Metos had ordered a bunch in the fall.”

  “Huh,” Charlotte said. “I guess he expected us to use them.” She watched as Zee’s stack of books kept growing. “Wow. Mr. Peaberry must have been impressed.”

  Zee looked embarrassed. “I told him we were in a mythology club.” He glanced at Charlotte, who raised her eyebrows at him. “I froze under pressure. But I’m British; you lot believe we do that kind of thing.”

  He had a point. “So what did you find? Did you get a chance to look at any of them?”

  “Well, there’re a few collections of myths. I got some plays, too, though I’m not sure they’re really, you know”—he lowered his voice—“true. A lot of them are just about mortals, really, with gods pulling the strings in the background, but this one”—he lifted up a small green volume—“is about Prometheus.”

  Charlotte exhaled. Prometheus made humans. When his creations were not faring well in the world of beasts, he appealed to Zeus to give them fire. Zeus refused, because that’s just the kind of guy he is, so Prometheus stole the fire that gave humans knowledge of the gods. As punishment, Zeus chained Prometheus to a mountain where an eagle would gnaw on his liver every day. The first time Charlotte had heard that story, she had thought it was particularly disgusting, and she didn’t even know it was real.

  “Anything interesting about Zeus?” Like directions to Olympus and ideas for devastating insults?

  Zee shrugged. “Not yet. Mostly he likes to change himself into various animals and chase mortal women.”

  “Charming,” said Charlotte. “But probably not helpful.”

  From downstairs came the sound of the doorbell. Mew looked around, then sprang toward the door of the room, leaping through as Zee opened it.

  “Good watch kitty,” Charlotte said with a small smile. Mew liked to appraise anyone who came into the house, in case they carried with them ill intent (or maybe cat treats).

  “Char,” said Zee, sucking in his breath. He was pointing at the TV screen, and, with a feeling of doom, Charlotte turned her head to look.

  People running, carrying overstuffed bags, animals, children. A parking lot filled with buses and vans. Dark-haired men in suits, ushering them forward. A coastal town emptying out, its shell awaiting its doom, silent and brave.

  Charlotte hit the volume button. In the background a siren blared.

  “The tsunami will hit within the hour. The Italian armed services have been hurriedly evacuating the coastal villages since a naval ship called in the warning. Oceanographers are calling the tsunami mysterious; there was no seismic event in the area. For now, the cause will remain unknown. Now the focus is getting these people out of harm’s way.”

  “It’s our fault,” Charlotte whispered, tears in her eyes. “Somehow. We did this.”

  Zee did not disagree. They watched in silence, in horror, as the town emptied out and the wave approached.

  Suddenly Mrs. Mielswetzski’s voice came traveling up the stairs. “Char! Zee!” she called. “Can you come down here?”

  “Just a second, Mom,” Charlotte said weakly, unable to take her eyes from the TV.

  “Somebody’s here to see you!”

  Charlotte looked at Zee and shrugged. This was not really the time for a visitor,
but what could they do? Charlotte wiped her eyes.

  But when they got downstairs, everything changed. There he was, standing in the Mielswetzski living room talking to her parents as if no time had passed. He looked the same, tall and thin, with a gaunt face and messy dark hair and clothes that had seen better days. There was a time, way back before anything had happened, when Mr. Metos had seemed sinister to Charlotte. Now he seemed like the friendliest face she’d ever seen, and the sight of him almost made Charlotte want to hug him.

  Almost.

  Charlotte’s heart threatened to leap right out of her mouth. All the waiting was over. They were going. The world needed them now, and they were going.

  “Look, Charlotte,” said Mr. Mielswetzski, “your old English teacher came by!”

  “Isn’t that nice?” said Mrs. Mielswetzski.

  “Very friendly of him, I think,” said Mr. Mielswetzski.

  “Um,” said Charlotte, her voice squeaking slightly. It was important not to show how excited she was. “Hi, Mr. Metos. It’s nice to see you.”

  “Hello, Charlotte, Zachary,” said Mr. Metos in his calm, stern voice. His eyes flicked over the cousins, and when they landed on Charlotte, they showed a flash of alarm.

  “You’ve been injured?” he asked, his voice impassive.

  “Um, yeah,” said Charlotte. “I had an…accident.” She could feel her parents shift behind her. It was hard to concentrate, so loud was her heart.

  As for Mr. Metos, he clearly had no idea what had happened to them the week before. It was strange, for once, to have more information than he did. “I see,” he said, gazing at Charlotte. “Well, I’ve just come back into town, and I wanted to return one of your books, Charlotte.” He nodded toward a book on his lap that Charlotte had never seen before. “I found it while unpacking some boxes.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Unpacking?” she repeated. Why would he need to unpack when they were just going again?

  “Yes,” he said. “I’ve just taken out a lease on an apartment a few blocks from here.”

  Charlotte and Zee exchanged a glance. “Are you…staying here?” Charlotte asked in a disbelieving voice.

  Mr. Metos knitted his eyebrows. “Why, yes,” he said. “I have some…pressing concerns that have brought me back. I should be here for some time.”

  “Oh,” said Charlotte, staring at him. “Because I thought…I thought you would be going away again.”

  “No,” said Mr. Metos, a note of finality in his voice. “No, I’m staying right here with you.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Say What?

  CHARLOTTE STOOD THERE STARING AT MR. METOS, his words reverberating in her head. What did he mean, he wasn’t going anywhere? Was he lying? Was it part of his grand scheme? Surely he was lying, surely there was a grand scheme, surely it was a trick for her parents, surely he’d come to take them with him.

  But as Mr. Metos gazed upon her with an inscrutable expression on his face, she realized that he was telling the truth. He hadn’t come to take them to the Prometheans. My first priority is to keep you safe, he’d written. He’d come to protect them.

  Charlotte didn’t need protection. She’d faced down Hades and Poseidon—and, okay, it was only the timely intervention of a giant squid and her cousin, not to mention the Lord of the Seas’ monumental anger management problems, that had allowed her to survive her Poseidon adventure, but still. She did survive. And Zee had saved everyone in the Underworld, and ultimately saved the cruise ship, not to mention survived a week as Philonecron’s Zee-bot. What had the Prometheans done?

  They were kids, and thus somehow needed protecting. But it seemed to Charlotte that she and Zee had done most of the protecting of late, and lots of people were still alive because of it.

  Zee was stock-still next to her, and she knew without looking the expression of disbelief on his face, while Charlotte tried hard to fight the angry tears that burned in her eyes.

  “So,” said Mr. Mielswetzski, “Mr. Metos, will you be working at Hartnett again?”

  Mr. Metos cleared his throat. “Yes. The middle school has employed me to do some tutoring and special projects for the rest of the year. I’ll be available there”—he cast a glance at the cousins—“should anyone need me. I’m in talks with the upper school about teaching there in the fall. English, of course.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mr. Mielswetzski exclaimed. “We’d love to have you.” Charlotte’s dad taught history at the upper school and was very enthusiastic about it. “Perhaps you and I could teach a joint class. I was thinking just the other day about how closely the study of American literature and American history parallel—”

  Charlotte wasn’t listening. Mr. Metos was going to teach at the high school in the fall? Just in time for her and Zee to start going there? And then what, was he going to magically land a job at Charlotte’s college? Professor of Mythology and Ruining People’s Lives? He was going to follow them for the rest of their miserable, pathetic, useless lives, while people suffered the whims and neglect of the gods.

  Her father was blathering on about the Civil War while Mr. Metos listened. It was all Charlotte could do to keep her rage from exploding her from within. Now they were just going to stand here, like everything was okay, and make conversation?

  “Mr. Metos,” interjected Mrs. Mielswetzski, “have you seen what happened in the Mediterranean? What do you think?”

  Charlotte stared at the Promethean, her eyes narrow. Yes, what did he think? Pretty scary, huh? Boy, wouldn’t it be nice to talk to people who had just come from battling with Poseidon and might have insight on the situation?

  Mr. Metos’s face did not move, his eyes registered nothing. Charlotte had spent enough time with him to know his face only got blanker the more momentous something was. “It is…very unusual.” He paused for a moment and then continued, “But we can be sure good people are working to solve it.”

  He did not look at Charlotte or Zee, but Charlotte knew he was speaking to them all the same.

  “Really?” she said, unable to keep the quaver out of her voice. “Because there’s a tsunami coming. People are running away. It’s horrible. They’re terrified.” She articulated each word carefully. Next to her Zee was straight and still, but she could feel his anger and frustration in the air.

  Mr. Metos turned his blank eyes to her. “Isn’t it fortunate there was warning? So they could all get out in time? You can be assured the whole town will be evacuated.”

  Ah. Charlotte understood. The Prometheans were there. What did the blog say about the mayor’s daughter who’d been chained to the cliff? A tall, dark-haired man rescued her? The girl probably didn’t mention the shabby clothes because that might have seemed rude. The descendants of Prometheus, all of the same bloodline, were recognizable for their dark features, lack of fashion sense, and general cold black hearts.

  So the Prometheans were in the Mediterranean. Keeping people from being sacrificed to sea monsters and saving them from tsunamis and rescuing them from dog-legged women-beasts. And still, Mr. Metos had left them to come to Charlotte and Zee. Because Charlotte was sure they could really spare people now. But she and Zee were apparently such babies that it was worth losing a Promethean to nanny them.

  Charlotte blinked rapidly but could not keep the tears from her eyes. Mr. Metos’s gaze fell on her, and she flushed. That’s what babies do, isn’t it? Cry?

  “It’s especially scary for us,” added Mrs. Mielswetzski. “Because we were just there.”

  And then Charlotte saw something flash through Mr. Metos’s eyes, just a flash, and then it was gone. He turned to Charlotte’s mother and asked, ever so casually, “Just there?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Mr. Mielswetzski. “It was all quite strange. There were navigational difficulties with the cruise ship, a gas leak, and a huge storm—it’s really a long story, but we were all on the Mediterranean! Except Zee, of course, who stayed here. We felt bad for leaving him behind, but it turned out he was lucky.”r />
  Next to Charlotte, Zee let out a barely perceptible noise.

  “We had quite the ordeal,” said Mrs. Mielswetzski.

  “Well,” Mr. Metos said, “Charlotte and Zachary will have to tell me all about it.” He turned to them. “Miss Mielswetzski, Mr. Miller, I’m starting at school tomorrow. Would you come to my office for a meeting? I have a project I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “Oh, no,” interjected Mrs. Mielswetzski. “Charlotte’s not—”

  “No, it’s all right,” Charlotte interrupted. “I’m going to school tomorrow.”

  Her mother turned to her. “Charlotte! The doctor said—”

  “She said I could go back when I felt better. It barely hurts now.” This was true, in a way—the pain from her injuries had nothing on her fury and disappointment now. “Mom,” she added, eyes full of sincerity, “I really don’t want to fall behind at the end of the year. I mean, eighth grade is important.”

  Mrs. Mielswetzski pursed her lips and eyed her daughter suspiciously.

  “Tara, the girl wants to go to school!” said Mr. Mielswetzski.

  “Fine,” Mrs. Mielswetzski said. “But you call me the instant you feel any pain at all.”

  Mr. Metos watched this whole transaction so impassively that Charlotte knew he was desperate to talk to them. And it almost made her want to say forget it, she was not going back to school, she was, in fact, never going back to school ever again, and would spend the rest of her life in the company of her parents so Mr. Metos would never find out what had happened on the Mediterranean Sea.

  And, were she not desperate to talk to him, maybe she would have.

  “I will, Mom,” she muttered.

  “Well, then, I’ll see you children tomorrow,” said Mr. Metos.

  Charlotte’s ears burned. Children. That’s what they were to him.

  Charlotte’s parents showed Mr. Metos the door, telling him all the while how nice it was for him to stop by and how glad they were that he was back and what a wonderful teacher he must be to take such an interest. Charlotte and Zee watched, silently, stonily, until her mother turned and asked, “Aren’t you going to say good-bye to Mr. Metos, Charlotte?”