The Search for Juno

Chapter XXXII

Clio and the twins knelt in the a sylvan clearing, the grass a dewy, silvery green beneath the moonlight. Though the air, laced with the taste of summer and lit up every other moment by the yellow glow of fireflies, was clear; Clio's mind was fogged.

Everything she had ever thought of Apollo, the bright, ebullient god who had taught her everything she knew, slanted off-center. What Alex said couldn't be true, and yet the more she sat and thought about it, the more the puzzle pieces seemed to snap together.

"But if Apollo really did lead Poseidon here," said Conny, oblivious to Clio's wandering mind, "then that means he would've betrayed his own sister. And he promised us he didn't do that."

"He did?" Alex said. Clio's eyes were trained on the ground, watching a small beetle clamber up a blade of grass, yet she could practically hear the frown on his face. "I don't remember that."

"Oh, that's right; I don't think you were there. You were too busy being fucking kidnapped."

"You say that like it's my fault!"

"I told you not to go. You didn't listen to me. That is your fault."

The twins' voices faded off into silence, until Clio realized they were both looking at her, as if waiting for something.

When the realization hit her, she shrugged. "I'm not going to apologize for that one. Sorry."

Conny rolled his eyes. "Whatever. By the way, are you planning on telling us why you've got us kneeling in a forest any time soon? Like, are we gonna link hands and sing kumbaya, or something?"

"No," Clio said, and she sat forward, pressing her palms to the earth. Cool, damp soil gritted beneath her fingernails, the blood in her veins humming like a plucked string. "We're here because nature is something Persephone and I have in common. I can reach her here; I'm almost sure of it."

"Persephone?" Alex repeated, warily. He was a tall, somewhat intimidating man, maybe, but something about the wan light and the way he folded his gangly legs underneath him made him look inexplicably young and harmless. "You don't mean—"

"The Queen of the Underworld?" Clio replied, not glancing up. "Yes. That's precisely who I mean."

Conny cursed under his breath. "I'm beginning to think this night can't get any crazier."

Alex shook his head. "Shut up before you jinx it."

All voices, all noise, drowned out as Clio tuned into her surroundings. She was at once something so big and so small, hyperaware of the moon and the stars above, the trees stretching towards them; hyperaware of how little her life was in comparison. It was just like it had been when the storm hit: She was outside herself, watching from a safe distance as the world around her swallowed her whole.

Miss Persephone.

Miss Persephone, please, I need you. It's Clio.

Her own energy was starting to drain, her ears twitching with fatigue. The voices filtered in and out again—Conny's, Alex's, saying her name. Yet she could not quit.

Miss Persephone—

A gust of wind, lightly scented of lavender and honeysuckle, blew Clio gently off her balance. When she straightened again, the Goddess of Spring knelt before her, one warm brown hand extended in her direction.

"Clio," she said, her mellow green eyes shining with apprehension. Clio didn't even have to explain; it's almost like Persephone already knew. "I heard your call. Is everything okay?"