The pure darkness of the cave opening was a shock, even after being out in the dark night. The stars didn’t seem to reach the cave, and it loomed up before me like monster. Everything around me was still; even the crickets had stopped their song. As I leaned forward, I thought I could hear something from deep within the cave, but I couldn’t identify the sound. Suddenly, a hand closed on my shoulder and I squealed in surprise.
“Come back to the house.” Demeter’s voice was sharp, but her face was shadowed by her cloak and I couldn’t see her eyes. Nervously, I followed her back up the winding path. I glanced back at the cave once and paused, but Demeter kept striding ahead of me, and I rushed to keep up. What would she say about me wandering around? Had I blown my cover? I cursed my insomnia as I hurried back to the cottage in her wake.
Once we were back inside, the stillness of the night dissolved.
“How dare you taunt me like that?” Demeter flung her cloak in a heap on the floor and started to pace.
“What do you mean?” Stunned, I couldn’t stop myself from speaking. The angry goddess spun on her heel and slapped me hard across the mouth. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I glared at her in shock. My parents had never hit me, and I was surprised at how much her hand stung.
“It’s bad enough that you abandon me for half of every year. Did you ever think, just once, to pretend to want to stay here with me?”
Still reeling from her slap, I stayed silent.
“But no! Sneaking out at night to look at the cave, making me feel like a burden that you can’t wait to be rid of.”
It was slowly dawning on me what that cave was. I couldn’t ask, since Persephone would have already known, but I felt sure it must be the entrance to the Underworld. Demeter’s next words confirmed that.
“You think I don’t know that in just thirteen days you’ll walk into that cave and I won’t see you again until March? Why do you have to rush it?” Her anger gave way to tears, and she sank to her bed near the hearth, weeping. I crossed over to her and knelt by her side, even though I was still mad that she’d slapped me. Persephone wouldn’t fight with her mother, I was sure of that, and I had to keep reminding myself to act like her, not like me.
“I don’t want to rush it. I’m sorry. You aren’t a burden.” I spoke softly, trying to heal a wound that was as old as the earth. I knew that Demeter had mourned the loss of her daughter when Hades first took her to the Underworld, but I hadn’t realized that she still felt the pain, year after year, when Persephone descended to be with her husband. I tried to imagine how my mom would feel if she had to lose me again and again, and I shuddered. Pushing my anger aside, I reached out my hands and the goddess enfolded me in a tight embrace.
“I don’t have to leave yet,” I whispered, fervently praying that it would not be me who would make that journey this year.
Chapter Thirty
When Demeter finally let me go back to bed, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. My dreams were filled with whispers and cave openings, but even in my sleep, I never stepped inside. I had no desire to find out what waited for Persephone in the Underworld.
Sunlight was streaming through the window when I woke, and I realized that Demeter had allowed me to sleep in. The house was empty, but the fire on the hearth crackled brightly and there were fresh yellow flowers in a mug on the table.
I sniffed the flowers, smiling at the warm scent, and took a slice of the thick rye bread that had been left out. I figured Demeter hadn’t stayed angry for long, or she wouldn’t have left me breakfast. Munching thoughtfully, I looked around the simple room.
The two mattresses were against opposite walls, leaving the space free in front of the large stone fireplace. The floor of the cottage was unstained wood, swept clean by the broom that leaned against the doorframe. A round hunk of cheese sat next to the loaf of bread on the table, and I broke off a piece. It was salty and sharp, and better than anything I had ever tasted at home.
There was a shelf of old books near Demeter’s bed, and I crossed the room to take a closer look. Leather-bound volumes of Homer, Ovid, and Apuleius took up most of the top shelf. I picked up a copy of the Iliad and flipped through it, but the text was strange; I wondered if it was printed in Greek.
The second shelf held rolls of parchment, and gingerly I unrolled one. The parchment was brittle and old, but the scroll didn’t crumble in my hands, and in a moment I was looking at an old map. It looked hand-painted, and it was probably at least four hundred years old, because there was only a vague lump on the left side of the map to represent North and South America. I pulled it closer to see if I could make out any of the tiny writing that covered the continents.
“I’m glad you are awake.” I spun around, terrified that Demeter had caught me hunting through her things, but instead of a goddess, a young boy with dark, curly hair stood in the doorway, smiling at me. His grin was infectious, and I smiled back at him as I replaced the scroll.
“What would you like to do today, m’lady?” His words surprised me; clearly this boy knew Persephone, but she hadn’t mentioned any kids to me. For a moment, I was at a loss.
Before I could speak, however, the boy had crossed the room and taken me by the hand. As he pulled me out of the cottage, he rattled off suggestions for the day. “We could watch the men thresh the grain, or we could walk to the orphanage and bless their gardens. Or maybe we could go into the city, and pretend to be rich mortals with bags of money, and then laugh when the shopkeepers try to charge us!” He giggled impishly, but then looked quickly up at me. “Of course,” he intoned solemnly, “I would never do anything dishonest. I serve the ladies of the harvest, and they want me to be good and kind.” The words sounded like he’d repeated them many times, but his broad grin hindered the seriousness of his words, and I laughed.
“Isn’t there some way we can go into town and still do good?” I asked him, liking the idea of seeing more of Greece than the airport and the fields around Demeter’s house.
He thought for a moment. “I suppose we could go to the farmers’ market, and bless the wares there.”
“Weren’t all the farmers here last night to receive a blessing?”
He looked at me strangely, and I felt foolish and exposed. “You know they weren’t. Every year, fewer and fewer folk bring their harvest to you and your mother. You told me so yourself, just last week.”
I thought quickly. “So I did. I just wanted to see if you remembered what I had said.”
He nodded eagerly. “You said that the old ways are not remembered because people think they can survive without magic.”
I looked at him sternly. “And do you think we can survive without magic?”
The boy shook his head vigorously. “Never! Without magic, how could I do this?” He conjured up a toy, a small wooden frog. It sat on his palm and he tapped it solemnly with his index finger three times. The frog blinked its eyes, and croaked.
I laughed and clapped, impressed. The boy hadn’t brought the toy to life, but he’d used a trick I hadn’t seen before to animate the wooden figure. I leaned forward, curious, and the frog froze.
“You’re very good at that.”
“I’ve been practicing since you showed me last fall. I finally got it right!” He beamed up at me proudly, and I felt a twinge of guilt for taking this moment away from Persephone. My guilt was quickly replaced with joy that I was here, in Greece, watching a child do magic when I could have been in North Carolina, fighting Rochelle for my life. I drew a deep breath and sighed happily.