As if an unseen shackle falls off me, I can move my limbs once more.
I whip my head around, to assess where we are. An entryway of sorts, lined with rock threaded with veins of gold and black, and dotted with mighty phoenix trees. The arch is to our left, and from this side there is no sight-obscuring light. I can see clearly through it to the short expanse of sand and rising bed of reeds, those snake-like ribbons slithering between them.
‘Harmless,’ the Bard had called them.
I’m suddenly so worried, I forget to be annoyed at him. Anassa crossed the arch with me, I’m sure of it. And the Bard was behind us seconds ago. Shepherd dragged us both –
‘Where are the others?’ I ask, not bothering to hide the rumbling in my own voice.
‘Don’t worry about that, now.’ Her smile is full of canines. ‘Everyone is where they ought to be. Each story in its proper place. No more unsanctioned, senseless crossovers.’
I don’t understand her words. But I don’t have to; they reek of threats and obfuscation. Rage takes over fully, burning the remnants of my fear. I spring my knife out of its hiding place within my cloak, bringing its blade to Shepherd’s throat, close enough to pinch the skin. ‘You want me to submit? Make me,’ I say, mirroring exactly what I said to Anassa when we first met, back when I thought she was yet another goddess sent to wreak havoc in my life. There is a buzzing in my fingers that makes my knife reverberate, as if it contains an earthquake.
‘Where. Is. She.’ I can barely hear my voice over the thunder of my heart. I grab hold of Shepherd’s necklace, and it’s like I grabbed a nest of poisonous snakes. It stings;my hand burns. I don’t let go. I swear the walls around us shake, an earthquake mirroring my mood.
Shepherd blinks twice, slowly. Then her smile returns.
‘Such ferocity,’ she says, golden-flecked eyes flickering with something like surprise or admiration. Like I am some wild child she has taken in, its tantrums fascinating to behold but not truly a threat. She wraps one hand around my wrist, plucking it off her with bewildering ease. Her other hand goes to my blade, holding the steel tight. ‘And such a sharp little toy.’
Heat radiates from Shepherd’s hands, the seven-pointed star above her head searing its impression on my eyes, until I can barely keep them open. The afterimages behind my lids flicker between woman and cat, between the thin veneer of fragile human form and the hungry beast within. I now know without a doubt she is the same, ferocious creature I first saw on that beach, perched on that black boulder while I swam with Anassa in tow. And how she hungers! Her breath is scalding on my face, a final warning. If I don’t surrender, this scalding breath says, her palms will melt my blade, then melt my bones, until my entire existence is a puddle of lava on the floor for her to gobble up, her snout blood-stained and ravenous, eating her fill as is her right. It’s a visceral certainty, a prophecy of never-ending pain etched in my mind in flames. My hands are so unsteady, so heavy, I could be brandishing a pulsing sun instead of steel. I can’t hold on much longer. I shouldn’t. The quaking of the world around us stops.
Forgive me, Anassa.
I submit, and I don’t have to speak a word to Shepherd, for her to know it. I simply let this thunder fizzle out within me, despair heavy like rain taking its stead. The heatimmediately subsides, a sweet-scented breeze bringing me such comfort I could weep. Hastily, I hide the knife back inside my cloak. If I obey, if I don’t stir up more trouble, maybe she’ll let me keep it.
I school my face into contrition, not entirely feigned.
Shepherd nods. ‘Much better. It was important that you learned this lesson. You can’t hurt me, Klytemnestra, though I suppose you couldn’t help but try. Now, enough of this unpleasantness. Come. Let me show you what is expected from a story such as yours.’
My name is Claret,I’m about to protest. Only self-preservation keeps me silent.
She knows my real name, when the Bard didn’t. And she’s as powerful as the Moirai.
Meekly, I follow Shepherd deeper into her domain, leaving the arch behind us. Her chain makes a soft, jingling sound with every step, these strange pendants brushing one another, whispering secrets I’m not meant to hear. As Shepherd’s light mellows into something that allows me to look at her more closely, I recognize these pendants for what they really are.
Keys. Endless gold keys, like the ones Clotho bequeathed us.
I stifle a cry of surprise, reaching into my cloak instead. My key is still there. So who are all these other keys for? Is she supposed to open doors, or keep them locked?
With every step that takes me further into Shepherd’s halls, my focus narrows on her belt.
The golden keys become the only thing I see, taunting me with potential answers, pushing me to follow this mercurial goddess who could kill me with a look. I try counting them but quickly abandon the endeavour – there are toomany of them, too glistening to tell apart. Shepherd takes me through peculiar passageways that tilt diagonally, her pace increasing while I am getting dizzy, struggling to focus, to breathe, to keep up. I have to hold on to both walls for balance, as if I’m on a ship that has incurred Poseidon’s wrath. Yet here she trots, unbothered, graceful, not once turning around to check on me, certain her leash is an effective one.
I am ashamed to say her certainty is not misplaced.
I should be running far, far away from her. Best take my chances with the world outside, with all its murderous waves and taunting apparitions and silken snakes – even with that bloody cave and the Erinya in it. But in all those instances, I had Anassa by my side. Someone to battle with, to carve up threats like one carves steps on a stone ladder, each altercation bringing us further along. Someone worthy of unlocking this world’s unending mysteries with. Someone, perhaps, to bleed for. I can’t believe our time together was supposed to end like this; unceremoniously, without farewell. I can’t believe this is what Clotho would have wanted, when she tied our threads together. So I keep walking on uneven ground, my stomach threatening to spill its meagre contents with each step, my hands grabbing the walls for purchase, my eyes always on the keys hanging from Shepherd’s belt.
That’s why I don’t notice it until it’s too late; until it crumbles on my hand like sand.
A human skull.
The walls are lined with them.
21. Anassa
The silver-slivered darkness chokes me as the wraith advances.
This is no kind, familial darkness I’m enmeshed in, only a slow succumbing to madness. I backtrack frantically, blindly, my screams muffled like my senses, shadowy hands cold around my throat somehow still burning me. No, no, no, not again, this can’t be happening again! It’s all too much: the pain, the blockage of my windpipe, the sensory deprivation, the knowledge that this time Claret isn’t here to save me … I try to reach within myself, for the feathery forces that have helped me previously, but all I grasp is fear. How can this horror find me thrice? What have I done to deserve this? Wheezing, I fall on my knees, my eyes rolling in their sockets.
