Chapter 16 Diantha #2
“One thing at a time.” Her measured tone is infuriating. “I didn’t go missing, dear. I was summoned.”
“Summoned?”
“Brought down. To him.” She looks at me with wide, innocent eyes. I’ve seen that look before. Hundreds of times. It was usually accompanied by he told me he’d never do it again or he said he only gets like this because he loves me so much. Rage claws its way up my throat.
“Mom, who is him?”
Her throat bobs with a heavy swallow. And then, she smiles. “Hades.”
I storm back to my desk in a blinding state of fury and anguish only to find a new email waiting in my inbox.
Dear Ms. Diantha Moro,
We are writing to inform you that your thesis advisor has been changed to DR. CORMAC BOWEN. Please click here to select a date and time for your first dissertation and research review.
Sincerely,
U of E Dept. of Art History
PS: hey Diantha this is actually Ray from bowen’s class lolol I’m assisting now. Rumor has it that your old advisor is retiring. I can tell you all about it if you wanna get a beer after next class - lmk :)
I don’t click the fucking link.
Instead, I grab my bag, yank on my coat, and storm across campus toward Bowen’s office on the fifth floor of the Art History building.
The pieces of my life float around me; they nip at my ankles like angry guard dogs.
We spent our whole lives running from demons.
Had that been true all along? Where had my mother gone for a year?
Could she realm travel? Maybe she’d found a portal. Somewhere with a high density of magical beings or objects.
I need to get into that catacomb. I need to get into that fucking crypt. This is the only fully formed thought I’m capable of as I burst into the cavernous building and up the spiraling staircase through the northern turret.
The air grows warmer as I climb higher and higher, the stone walls closing in tighter and tighter. Two floors up, I rip off my jacket and tie it around my waist, praying Orfeo doesn’t jump out from some corner and see me like this.
The polished-wood steps grow more worn, cobwebs catching on my hands as I use the railing to hold myself steady.
Bowen’s office is at the end of a long, narrow hallway, and next to it is an alcove with an altar to Our Lady of Peace adorned with fake candles and statuettes of angels and saints, dried roses and prayer cards.
The flickering candlelight and the single, buzzing overhead light stop me, my anger interrupted momentarily by fear.
I stare at the statue of Mary, encased in shadows.
I remember my mother always used to say that demons moved in the shadows.
You’re safe, I tell myself. I grit my teeth. You are safe.
I press on, passing through the ghoulish, green overhead light. I find the door with his name and press my face to the fogged glass, spying the silhouette of a man at a desk. Then, I start banging on the door with my closed fist. “It’s Diantha. Let me in.”
The shadow barely stirs. Fucker.
“I know you’re in there,” I call out. “Let me in, Bowen.” I bang harder. “I’m not going away.”
Suddenly, the door swings open.
“Not even Professor Bowen, eh?”
He looks down his nose at me, as frazzled as ever. Sparse hairs cling to his sweaty red face. His pants sag and it looks like he missed a few loops on his belt. “Well, I guess I must invite you in.”
Bowen steps aside and I brush past him, throwing myself into the chair opposite his desk. “You’re my advisor now, huh?”
“Yes, it appears your previous advisor has gone into early retirement.” Bowen reaches for his pipe from the ashtray beside his laptop and taps it out. I notice, as his sleeve tugs up from the strain, a set of very small bite marks on the inside of his wrist.
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “Interesting. And so you were unceremoniously assigned my thesis, even though you think my research is a crock of shit.”
“Crock of shit.” He laughs. Emotionally impassable. If I hadn’t seen him myself at Hades House, I’d probably take his snobbery at face value. Now I know it’s an act. “Not a crock of shit, no. I’m not so severe with my language, Miss Moro.”
“You mocked me in front of everyone, said I was studying bat dung.”
“Did I?” He looks so pleased with himself. “What an arse.”
“We agree on one thing then.”
His blue eyes jump up from his pipe to catch my gaze. His expression transforms into something hard and severe. “Now, now, Diantha.”
I grit my teeth at his fuck-ass paternal tone. “So you didn’t request me?”
“I had no hand in how students were reassigned.” Annoyance crests in his voice.
“What shit luck then.” I laugh. “Forced to read what I’ve written while you live your little double life.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re a living donor, no?” I say, using the turn of phrase I picked up from Orfeo.
His cheeks begin to rapidly color. He looks like a chewed wad of bubblegum. “And what would that be?”
I learn forward until my elbows rest on his desk. “You know what it means, Bowen.” I reach over and push his sleeve up his wrist. Before he yanks away from my touch, my fingers graze the wound.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hisses through clenched teeth.
“Fresh bite marks on your wrist and, I think, enough vampire blood coursing through your body to have altered your chemistry. That’s why you’re always sweating, right? You’ve swapped blood with a Mediterranean vampire?”
Bowen says nothing back. He just fusses with the mess on his desk and begins packing his pipe with shaky fingers.
“I don’t care, by the way. I’ve always been a believer. You’re the one who seems to be at war with your own desires.” I shrug. “Me? I don’t give a fuck. Sleep with whoever you want—vampire, demon, siren. All I need is to get into the catacombs. Tonight.”
He stills and says, “Impossible.”
“Is it?” I shake my head. “Even with your reputation on the line? Because maybe I didn’t make that clear—I am blackmailing you, Professor Bowen.”
“Diantha, please.” He tries to deploy his usual holier-than-thou tone, but it’s not working on me. “I don’t have access to a key—only the provost and department chair do. I have to check the key out before our field trip and return it that same night.”
“Liar,” I seethe, my voice hard with all my frustrations.
“No,” he pushes back, equally as fierce. “No, not about this. I promise, which probably means nothing to you.” His tongue darts out to quickly wet his lips. “Given the circumstances of our meeting.”
“I’m not playing a game. My entire life—my sanity, my future, my family—is hanging in the balance because of this…this world you like to dabble in. You may fuck vampires, but this is all still a joke to you. You have no idea what kind of fire you’re playing with.”
“I do realize,” he says softly. “Of course I do. I know how dark their world can be.”
For a moment, he looks so sad that I nearly crack. I’m not this person. I’m not some hard-ass capable of shaking people down. I want to apologize and run away, go back to my apartment, crawl under the sheets, and sleep for a thousand years.
But I can’t.
“Do you know anything about the cult of Asteria?” I ask.
“Asteria…mother of Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft and crossroads. I didn’t know she had a cult.
Hecate, of course, has a notable following.
” He drags a hand down his face. “M-maybe this worship of Asteria was in a tribute to…to all women who survived Zeus? Survived assault? Maybe it’s more of a symbolic name, an allegiance not just to Hecate but also her lineage. ”
Bowen pushes away from his desk and begins shuffling through the chaotic bookshelf behind him.
Eventually, he pulls out a heavy volume with a broken spine and flips through it.
“Here we go—Asteria, mother of Hecate, goddess of the stars, known for dream divination, transformation. She evaded danger by transforming into…” He flips through a few more pages. “An island. A quail.”
“Slow down,” I cut him off, squeezing my eyes shut. “That’s why…”
Why I meet my mother in the Dream Place, why I can shift my soul away from my body.
Why I saw the sky alive with stars and fire.
But why is my mother trapped? I push my hands into my hair, letting out a frustrated growl.
“There’s gotta be something else. Does it say anything about Hades and Asteria? ”
Bowen flips through the pages. “Nothing here…”
“What about Hecate and Hades?”
He shakes his head. “Hecate and Hades rule within different realms…but their worlds do meet in the night. Both Hades’s creatures and Hecate’s followers come out with the moon.”
I chew at my lip. If my mother worshipped Asteria and followed Hecate, maybe it was at the crossroads between night and day, good and evil, that she met Hades. But why would he then trap her in the in-between? Why would he care so much about one human woman?
I shake my head harder. “No. Professor, my mom is trapped between realms, and somehow it seems all of my ancestors are there with her. It’s a curse, and I think I’m the only one who can break it. But I’m lost. All I know is that…my mother knew Hades.” I emphasize knew.
Bowen picks up his pipe and lights it, taking a deep inhale. Eventually, he asks: “Did your mother cheat death? Did she make a deal with him? Perhaps…there’s some sort of blood debt left unfulfilled.”
A blood debt. Like Orfeo. What had Leo called it? The code of Hades. Another thing I need to look up. My head begins to ache, and I realize I haven’t eaten anything all day. I’ve barely had a sip of water. “I need to get into the catacombs. If I can’t get in there, I…”
I’ll what? Tears spring to my eyes. I’ll end up trapped too. I’ll never speak to Orfeo again. I’ll never set my mother free. Any semblance of a future collapses right before me. I try to hold back my tears, but I can’t fight them anymore. They fall, hot and slow, down my cheeks.
What was I thinking trying to blackmail Bowen? This isn’t me.
Meanwhile, he’s staring at me like I’ve got dynamite strapped to my chest. And I don’t blame him. I’ve lost my fucking mind.
Bowen lowers himself back into his chair. “Diantha, forgive me, but I feel your anger toward me is misplaced. I apologize for insulting you, but you have to understand that my relations with—”
“I’m not going to tell anyone. I would never do that.” I wipe away my tears with my sweater sleeve. “I would never go out of my way to hurt someone.” I suck down a shaky breath. “I’m just…fucking desperate.”
Because the only person in this world who can help me hates me for the way I abandoned him. Because I am also the only person in this world who can help him.
“Look, Friday night we have our field trip. I…will do my best to give you time to explore.”
“The crypt is huge, I can’t do shit in twenty minutes!”
He gives me a look of total exhaustion before taking another long pull of his pipe. “I think I know exactly what you need to see, Diantha.”