“Don’t worry,” said Jerome. “Me and Roxanne will wake you up if you conk out.”
As it happened, Juliet was far too excited to sleep.
Not long after midnight, the house finally did fall silent—the kind of silence that comes not only because talk and activity have ceased, but because all are asleep. Or, in this case, all but one girl and two rats.
“Okay,” whispered Jerome, “let’s go!”
Juliet climbed out of bed. Though she was still fully dressed, she put on a hooded sweatshirt, knowing that the night would be cool and damp. Roxanne and Jerome scrambled onto her shoulders, and they slipped quietly out of her room.
“I have to say, I’m impressed,” said Roxanne as they started down the stairs. “I wasn’t sure you would do this.”
“Just because I’m shy doesn’t mean I’m a coward,” whispered Juliet.
She headed for the kitchen, planning to go out the back way. But her father and Margaret had left a pile of tools in front of the door to the outside, and Juliet didn’t think she could move them without waking the rest of the house.
“Guess it’s the front door after all,” said Roxanne.
“What about the part about not going around the house the wrong way?” asked Juliet nervously. “I know Byron told us which way is widdershins, but I don’t want to take a chance.”
“Ah, that’s easy,” said Jerome. “We won’t go around the house!”
“Well how am I supposed to meet this woman if we don’t go around the house?”
The rat sighed. “Look, we’re going to go halfway around the house to meet her, right?”
“I suppose so,” said Juliet hesitantly.
“Stay with me on this. We go halfway around to meet her. Then when you’re done talking to her, we turn and go back the way we came. That way we don’t go around the house. As long as we don’t go past the halfway mark, we’re safe whichever way we go!”
“Are you sure about that?” asked Juliet suspiciously.
“Jerome is very good with this kind of thing,” said Roxanne.
“If you say so,” said Juliet.
She stopped at the tool drawer, grabbed a flashlight, slipped it into the pouch in the front of her sweatshirt, then tiptoed back the way she had come. Easing open the front door, she peeked out, hoping that none of the neighbors would be returning from a night on the town—and that all her moony-eyed admirers had been locked safely in their homes.
To her relief, the street was empty.
She stepped outside. The night was cool and damp, the smell of the sea strong on the air. The nearly full moon made it easy to see, despite the low mist that covered the ground.
“I still wish I could remember which way Byron said to go,” she muttered uneasily.
“I told you, it doesn’t make any difference, as long as we don’t go more than halfway around the house,” said Jerome impatiently. “The big question is, where is this dame going to meet you? If she’s not directly behind the house, we should go whichever way would be shorter.”
“So we don’t go more than halfway,” added Roxanne.
“Got it,” said Juliet. She stepped off the flagstone path, turned left, and started for the backyard.
The grass was wet with dew, and soon her sneakers were as well.
When she passed the second corner of the house, the moon appeared brighter than ever, its silver light making the mist seem to glow from within.
The tulips were open again.
And there, just where she had stood before, was the mysterious woman. The woman beckoned, but for a moment Juliet stood, unmoving, uncertain. Then she relaxed. It was indeed Alvina Clark, just as her mother had suggested. But what did she have to do with all this?
Juliet started forward again. As she walked, a sudden shimmer of light surrounded Alvina. The old face seemed to flicker. Juliet wanted to run away. But somehow it was too late to turn back, and she felt herself drawn on by a power she could not resist.
As Juliet drew closer to Alvina, she felt as if she were looking at two women squeezed into one place. There was Alvina, stooped and gray, her face lined with old sorrow. Flickering over her, sometimes so brightly that Alvina disappeared altogether, was another woman, tall and proud, with a broad, high brow and clear gray eyes. In one hand she held a spear. A sudden whir of wings caused Juliet to look up. An owl dropped out of the mist to settle on the woman’s shoulder. Juliet thought the talons must have hurt as the owl took its place, but the woman did not show any sign that she felt them.
“Let’s stop right here,” whispered Jerome. “Owls and rats are not a good combination.”
“You are safe,” said the woman, though she should not have been able to hear his whisper from where she stood. Her voice, rich and beautiful, seemed to come from a long way away. “My owl will not hurt you, Jerome.”
“Oh, geez,” muttered the rat. “I hate it when they know your name before you even talk to them.”
“Who are you?” asked Juliet, barely able to speak above a whisper herself.
The woman gave her a sad smile. “I have had many names. Now I hardly know what to call myself. I am but a shadow of what I once was. The world continues to change, and what I represent is not much valued in these times.”
“What do you represent?” asked Juliet.
“Wisdom,” said the woman, who now seemed to have replaced Alvina altogether. She smiled wryly and added, “Though I have not always been wise myself.”
Lifting a hand, she pointed an ivory-colored finger at the amulet that hung around Juliet’s neck. “I came to warn you about that. I see I am somewhat late. It would have been better had you never put it on.”
“I’ve already figured that out,” said Juliet bitterly.
“you wear a talisman of love,” said the woman. “But love must be tempered with wisdom, else it can become a force that leads to destruction.”
The owl shook its wings.
“I spoke of wisdom,” said the woman. “Alas, I am but a poor representative of it. I urge you to be more thoughtful than I was in the days of the golden apple. In that contest, and in the terrible years that followed, I too often let anger or envy into my heart. Those things are the enemies of wisdom, and it withers in their presence. When I most let anger rule me, I was most false to my cause. It is agapé that should guide you, for in its warm light, wisdom grows and thrives. Act with this in mind, Juliet Dove, and you can never go wrong.”
Juliet stared at the woman in wonder. “Who are you, really?” she whispered.
The woman closed her eyes. “A shadow. A ghost. A visitor from another world, using this poor woman as a vessel to reach you, as I recently used your little sister.” She smiled. “Though I have had many names, that was the first time I have been known as Mr. Toe!”
“I still don’t understand,” said Juliet. She felt Roxanne and Jerome shift on her shoulders.
“All right, I’ll be more direct. I am she who was once called Athena.” Now she looked forlorn indeed. “I was stronger in those times, if not as wise as I should have been. But then, none of us were as wise as we should have been.”
“Us?” asked Juliet.
“We who were called gods. We’ve drawn back from the world of men these days. You don’t need us anymore. But some of us have a hard time letting go. Eris—”
“Discord!” said Juliet.
Athena nodded. “Eris is always with you. She finds humans oddly attractive, partly because she loves getting them to quarrel. Not that she needs to do much in that regard; you mortals seem quite capable of creating discord on your own. That was part of why we gods withdrew from the human world. Love, war, wisdom, discord—you were generating those things at a phenomenal rate all on your own. You hardly needed our encouragement.”
“I don’t know,” said Juliet. “I think we’re still a little short on the wisdom part.”
Athena smiled sadly. “Often it is not wisdom that is lacking, but will. Most people know, most of the time,
what would be wisest to do. The problem is they choose to act otherwise. Or they lack courage.”
Juliet blushed, thinking of the apology she had been afraid to offer Bambi.
Athena sighed. Juliet could see Alvina’s face, flickering underneath that of the goddess. “There’s not much I have to offer these days that humans don’t already know. If I could give them the wisdom to use the wisdom they have, that would be something else altogether!”
“What about Eris? What does she have to do with me?”
“It was Eris who gave you the amulet, which had been hidden safely away for many centuries. She wants it loose in the world again because it is an incredible source of discord. You must be careful, Juliet. You have been swept up in an old story and powerful forces are moving around you. Be wise, wary, and watchful.”
Juliet recognized the words, which had appeared in Mr. Elives’ letter and then been repeated by Hyacinth Priest.
Athena raised her arm and the owl fluttered away, disappearing into the darkness. She was flickering again and seemed more distant. “I must go now. We have bound ourselves away from the world of men, and it is not easy for us to come back, not easy for any of us save Eris, who never really left you.”
She began to fade.
“Wait!” called Juliet, not sure what else she wanted of the goddess but reluctant to have her leave. “Wait . . .”
Alvina Clark’s face was showing through more strongly now. But Athena’s eyes were still there as the flickering form leaned forward and kissed Juliet on the forehead. “Be wise,” she whispered again. “Let go of fear, and act out of love.”
She shimmered and vanished, leaving Alvina Clark standing in her place. The old woman looked bewildered. But she also looked radiant, as if she had just experienced something beautiful, something that filled her with joyful expectation.
“Are you all right?” whispered Juliet.
Alvina blinked. “What? Who said that?” Then her eyes seemed to focus on Juliet. “Oh, I know you! You’re the Dove girl. Yes, sweetheart, I’m all right. In fact, I’ve never felt better in my life. But . . . oh, I don’t know. I’m almost on fire. Yet I feel as if something is missing, too.” She started to cry. “It’s very strange, isn’t it?”
“Very,” agreed Juliet.
“Well, I need to go home now,” said Alvina, wiping at her tears. “You should be home, too! It’s late.”
“Yes,” said Juliet. “It’s late.”
She watched Alvina turn and walk into the mist that still swirled about them.
“Geez!” said Jerome. “Roxanne and me have been in some weird situations before, but this is something else.”
“You’re not kiddin’,” said Roxanne. “Come on, Juliet. Let’s get out of here.”
Juliet, dazed by her second meeting with a goddess, turned to go. She hadn’t walked more than five steps when Jerome cried, “Wrong way! Quick, turn back! Turn back!”
His warning came too late.
The mist grew thicker. A terrible coldness surrounded them. And then, clearly, they were somewhere else.
Somewhere they had never intended to be.
TEN
She Who Wanders
“Oh, geez,” said Jerome, as the mist wrapped around them. “We’re in for it now. Where do you suppose we are, anyway?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea,” whispered Juliet, her voice trembling. She was terrified, but also furious at herself for having made this mistake.
“Well, it sure ain’t Kansas,” muttered Roxanne. Juliet glanced at the rat, who was clinging to her left shoulder. Roxanne shrugged. “The Wizard of Oz is one of my favorite movies.”
Juliet pivoted and began to retrace her steps.
“I suspect it’s too late to turn back now,” said Jerome.
The rat was right, as Juliet had to admit when she had walked back five paces, then ten, then twenty, then fifty, only to find the mist thicker than ever.
“Now what do we do?” she whispered, her voice husky with fear.
“I think we’d better go back in the direction you were walking before,” said Jerome.
“Jerome’s right,” said Roxanne. “Once you start one of these things, you pretty much have to go through to the other side if you want to get out again.”
“Have you ever been in ‘one of these things’?” asked Juliet.
“Not really,” said Roxanne. “But hanging around in the magic shop—well, you hear a lot of stories.”
“I hear something now,” said Jerome. “Listen!”
Juliet paused. In the distance she could hear waves crashing on rocks. The sound was familiar; Venus Harbor was a seashore town, after all. But it was not a sound she had ever heard from her own backyard.
“The mist seems thinner that way,” said Jerome. “Maybe we better go there.”
“At least I’ll have a better chance of walking without tripping,” muttered Juliet, who, unable to see the ground beneath the mist, had already stubbed her toe a couple of times. As she walked, the sky grew lighter. Soon they left the mist—and the darkness—behind, emerging into a sunny day. The landscape was rocky, with low-growing trees and shrubs. There was not a house or building in sight.
She started toward the waves and soon found a rocky path. It led upward, bringing them out at the edge of a cliff that was higher than anything Juliet had ever seen around Venus Harbor.
The air ahead was clear, and she stood for a moment to watch the sea roll toward shore in great combers, its surface unmarred by any ship, or buoy, or other sign of man. Far out, she saw a dolphin leap. She looked down. It was at least a hundred feet to the great rocks against which the sea was breaking in cascades of foam.
Running along the edge of the cliff was a path, not well traveled but easy enough to spot. To the right it sloped downward. To their left it made a steep climb up.
“Which way do you think we should go?” asked Juliet.
“My guess is up,” said Roxanne.
“Figures,” said Jerome.
“Hey, you’re not the one who has to climb it,” said Juliet.
“So I was being sympathetic. But if we’re gonna do it, let’s get going. This is making me nervous.”
Juliet comforted herself with the thought that at least there were no people here. Heck, if she was lucky, maybe she could get through this without having to talk to anyone. Well, anyone except Roxanne and Jerome. She realized that right now she would be totally terrified if she were on her own. How was it that a pair of talking rats could make all this seem bearable?
They had been walking along the cliff for about ten minutes when they spotted the palace. Made of rose-colored marble, its high pillars thrust from the mist ahead of them like rays of sunlight shooting up from the earth.
“Wowza,” said Jerome. “Wonder what the rent is on that baby.”
“Not much,” creaked a voice beside them. “Just your life.”
Juliet spun toward the voice. A wizened old woman had hobbled to the edge of the path. Her hair was wispy, her skin bumpy and wrinkled, her teeth mostly gone. She extended a hand that was bent like a claw. “What nice rats,” she wheezed. “Do you think I could have them?”
Jerome and Roxanne cowered back.
“Who are you?” asked Juliet. At least that was what she meant to ask. What actually came out of her mouth was little more than a squeak.
She tried again. “Who are you?”
The old woman shrugged. “People call me any number of names.” She reached toward the amulet. Juliet started to pull back but Roxanne, her mouth right next to Juliet’s ear, whispered fiercely, “Hold still! It’s always better to be nice to an old lady in a situation like this.”
Resisting the urge to point out the way Roxanne and Jerome had recoiled when the old woman first appeared, Juliet forced herself to remain still. The woman lifted the amulet in her twisted fingers and bent her head to examine it.
“Very pretty,” she crooned at last. “And oh-so-dangerous. I think yo
u had better go on into the palace.”
And with that she vanished.
Juliet blinked.
“People come and go in the strangest way here,” said Roxanne, referring to The Wizard of Oz again.
“Should we do what she said?” asked Juliet nervously.
“I think we’d better,” said Jerome. “Dames like that, you don’t want to cross ’em.”
The palace gate, made of finely wrought silver, swung silently open as they approached.
They entered a room with walls so high the curved blue ceiling seemed like a sky. Enormous windows—tall, and without glass—looked out onto sweeping views. With a start Juliet realized that the window farthest to the left showed a snow-covered scene, while the one to the right opened onto high summer.
At the far side of the room, across the black marble floor and mounted on a three-tiered dais, was a throne of ebony and silver.
On the throne sat the hag they had met on the path. Yet she seemed to grow younger with each step they took in her direction, so that by the time they were standing before her, she was a woman in her prime. Tall and elegant, with auburn hair and dark eyes, she was dressed in a white garment that draped over one shoulder. A wide band of intricately worked silver adorned her upper left arm.
“Welcome, child,” she said. Her deep, beautiful voice throbbed with power.
Juliet felt a desperate need to curtsy. Unfortunately, that seemed absurd for someone wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Finally, she bowed her head in respect.
“Rise,” said the woman, putting the tips of her fingers under Juliet’s chin.
Juliet tingled at the touch, which was cool yet filled with strange power. “Wh—who are you?” she stammered.
“Like others you have met, I have been known by many names. For the story you are trapped in now, Hera is probably the most useful.”
“You’re the queen of the gods?” cried Juliet.
Hera smiled. “I was, at least some of the time.” She shook her head. “We were very young when those stories were first lived. Young and foolish and careless of our power. Arrogant and sure we would go on forever . . .”