“‘Slip Sliding Away,’” Ella muttered. “Number five U. S. single. Paul Simon. Frank, go with her. Simon says, Frank, go with her. ”
Hazel had no idea what Ella was talking about, but her vision darkened as she clung to Frank’s hand.
She found herself back in the Underworld, and this time Frank was at her side.
They stood in Charon’s boat, crossing the Styx. Debris swirled in the dark waters—a deflated birthday balloon, a child’s pacifier, a little plastic bride and groom from the top of a cake—all the remnants of human lives cut short.
“Wh-where are we?” Frank stood at her side, shimmering with a ghostly purple light as if he’d become a Lar.
“It’s my past. ” Hazel felt strangely calm. “It’s just an echo. Don’t worry. ”
The boatman turned and grinned. One moment he was a handsome African man in an expensive silk suit. The next moment he was a skeleton in a dark robe. “’Course you shouldn’t worry,” he said with a British accent. He addressed Hazel, as if he couldn’t see Frank at all. “Told you I’d take you across, didn’t I? ’Sall right you don’t have a coin. Wouldn’t be proper, leaving Pluto’s daughter on the wrong side of the river. ”
The boat slid onto a dark beach. Hazel led Frank to the black gates of Erebos. The spirits parted for them, sensing she was a child of Pluto. The giant three-headed dog Cerberus growled in the gloom, but he let them pass. Inside the gates, they walked into a large pavilion and stood before the judges’ bench. Three black-robed figures in golden masks stared down at Hazel.
Frank whimpered. “Who—?”
“They’ll decide my fate,” she said. “Watch. ”
Just as before, the judges asked her no questions. They simply looked into her mind, pulling thoughts from her head and examining them like a collection of old photos.
“Thwarted Gaea,” the first judge said. “Prevented Alcyoneus from waking. ”
“But she raised the giant in the first place,” the second judge argued. “Guilty of cowardice, weakness. ”
“She is young,” said the third judge. “Her mother’s life hung in the balance. ”
“My mother. ” Hazel found the courage to speak. “Where is she? What is her fate?”
The judges regarded her, their golden masks frozen in creepy smiles. “Your mother…”
The image of Marie Levesque shimmered above the judges. She was frozen in time, hugging Hazel as the cave colla
psed, her eyes shut tight.
“An interesting question,” the second judge said. “The division of fault. ”
“Yes,” said the first judge. “The child died for a noble cause. She prevented many deaths by delaying the giant’s rise. She had courage to stand against the might of Gaea. ”
“But she acted too late,” the third judge said sadly. “She is guilty of aiding and abetting an enemy of the gods. ”
“The mother influenced her,” said the first judge. “The child can have Elysium. Eternal Punishment for Marie Levesque. ”
“No!” Hazel shouted. “No, please! That’s not fair. ”
The judges tilted their heads in unison. Gold masks, Hazel thought. Gold has always been cursed for me. She wondered if the gold was poisoning their thoughts somehow, so that they’d never give her a fair trial.
“Beware, Hazel Levesque,” the first judge warned. “Would you take full responsibility? You could lay this guilt on your mother’s soul. That would be reasonable. You were destined for great things. Your mother diverted your path. See what you might have been. …”
Another image appeared above the judges. Hazel saw herself as a little girl, grinning, with her hands covered in finger paint. The image aged. Hazel saw herself growing up—her hair became longer, her eyes sadder. She saw herself on her thirteenth birthday, riding across the fields on her borrowed horse. Sammy laughed as he raced after her: What are you running from? I’m not that ugly, am I? She saw herself in Alaska, trudging down Third Street in the snow and darkness on her way home from school.
Then the image aged even more. Hazel saw herself at twenty. She looked so much like her mother, her hair gathered back in braids, her golden eyes flashing with amusement. She wore a white dress—a wedding dress? She was smiling so warmly, Hazel knew instinctively she must be looking at someone special—someone she loved.
The sight didn’t make her feel bitter. She didn’t even wonder whom she would have married. Instead she thought: My mother might’ve looked like this if she’d let go of her anger, if Gaea hadn’t twisted her.
“You lost this life,” the first judge said simply. “Special circumstances. Elysium for you. Punishment for your mother. ”
“No,” Hazel said. “No, it wasn’t all her fault. She was misled. She loved me. At the end, she tried to protect me. ”
“Hazel,” Frank whispered. “What are you doing?”
She squeezed his hand, urging him to be silent. The judges paid him no attention.
Finally the second judge sighed. “No resolution. Not enough good. Not enough evil. ”
“The blame must be divided,” the first judge agreed. “Both souls will be consigned to the Fields of Asphodel. I’m sorry, Hazel Levesque. You could have been a hero. ”
She passed through the pavilion, into yellow fields that went on forever. She led Frank through a crowd of spirits to a grove of black poplar trees.