Evertrue

“I know where I’m going,” he said. “I’ve been there. I can picture it.”

“Which means we should be able to land directly there since it’s not in the labyrinth,” I said.

We didn’t waste any more time talking, and within moments we were spinning through the darkness.

I landed on my back looking at the fake azure sky, but the blue canvas was broken up by pine trees stretching high, towering above me.

I sat up on a bed of pine needles. “Are we in a forest?” I asked.

“A forest with a lake,” Cole said.

I turned around and saw that we were on the edge of a huge clearing that held a giant lake, at least the size of Jenny Lake near Jackson Hole. The water was clear and blue; and except for the fact that there wasn’t a single ripple on its surface, it could’ve been a lake anywhere in the Rocky Mountains.

I pushed myself up to a standing position and walked to the water’s edge. I breathed in deeply, expecting the smell of pine; but there was no odor, although I felt the needles crunching beneath my feet.

“Don’t touch the water,” Cole said. “You know how the water works here. Makes you forget things.”

I paused in my tracks and raised my eyebrows. “Yeah. I’m just surprised you know,” I said.

I took a step back. Jack came up beside me, put his arm around my shoulders, and stared out at the lake.

“So Cole,” he said. “Where is the sickle?”

Cole shielded his eyes, even though there was no sun. “In the middle.”

“Of the lake?” I said.

“Yes. In the middle. Underwater.”

“What?!” I said. “How are we supposed to get it? Swim?”

Cole laughed. “No. Even if you could swim to the middle without drowning in the water—and without ingesting any, or forgetting why you’re there in the first place—it’s far under-water. So . . . then you would drown.”

Jack’s fists clenched.

I stepped purposefully between him and Cole. “What was your plan, Cole?” I said.

“I don’t know. I always thought that when I wanted something bad enough to wish for it here, I would figure it out then.”

I grabbed Jack’s fist with both of my hands before he exploded, but he wasn’t even paying attention to Cole anymore. He was staring out across the water. “There’s a tree out of place,” he said.

I looked all around us. “How can you tell? You know where each one belongs?”

He smiled and pointed to a spot that was maybe a quarter mile away. “That tree.”

I followed his gaze and saw exactly what he was talking about. In a sea of pine trees, there was one bushy fruit tree right by the edge of the water.

The myth of Tantalus talked about a fruit tree. It had to mean something. We followed Jack as he navigated a pathway to the fruit tree, keeping us close to the water.

“Maybe the sickle will be hidden in the tree,” I said.

“Yeah,” Jack said, turning and shooting me a grin. “Maybe it will be that easy.”

We made it to the tree. Searched the ground surrounding the trunk of the tree. Looked up in the branches. Tried to find anything that looked like a sickle. Or a scythe. Or a dagger. Or a sword.

There was nothing.

Cole didn’t help search. He stood there staring at one of the branches.

“Are we boring you, Cole?” I said.

“That branch looks different,” he said. He reached up and pulled on it, but it didn’t budge. But he was right; it was different. The base of the branch, where it was attached to the trunk of the tree, looked as if it could pivot with the right amount of force. “Hercules, you come try it,” Cole said.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Cole?” I said. “That sounded like the old Cole. A little bit.”

“Really?” He seemed genuinely shocked. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “Anything you can remember . . . is a good thing.” I tried to sound convincing, but I didn’t succeed.

Jack went over to the branch and pulled. It didn’t budge. He tried again until he was hanging with his entire body weight. The branch creaked as if it thought about moving but then didn’t.

“Both of you need to hang on it,” I said.

Cole reached up and added his body weight, and the branch finally gave way. That’s when the ground shook. And the waves started.

TWENTY-THREE

NOW

The Everneath. Lake Tantalus.

The water retreated at first, revealing more of the sandy beach. Then we saw a giant swell forming in the center of the lake, growing as if the lake itself were sucking in all the water from the perimeter.

Once the water had retreated into the lake by at least the length of a football field, the gigantic swell in the center froze for a second.

“That’s not good,” Jack said. “We’ve gotta run.”

“Don’t let go!” I said.

“Becks. It’s a mini-tsunami coming for us.”

I looked all around, thinking as fast as I could. “Climb to the branch,” I said.

Jack didn’t waste time arguing. He swung himself over the limb, then reached down and pulled me and then Cole up just as a tidal wave of water rushed onto shore. The water rose up and barely skimmed the bottom of the branch before it fell back down.

“Was that all we did?” Jack asked. “Create a wave?”

“Look!” I said.

The water had gone back into the lake, but it began to swirl in a circle, a giant whirlpool centered in the middle. And the level was going down.

“It’s like a giant toilet flushing,” I said.

The water level sank enough that a small platform appeared in the center of the lake. Well, small from where we sat in the fruit tree.

“That’s how we’re going to get there,” I said. “Once all the water’s gone, one of us can just walk out.”

“I hope it stops sinking soon,” Jack said.

“Why?” I asked, but then I saw the problem. As the water sank, I could see that the edge of the platform dropped off on all four sides, rock walls nearly perpendicular to the surface of the water.

“Oh,” I said. “Can you get off and stop it?”

Cole dropped from the branch, and the lever flipped up. Immediately, water bubbled up from the center of the platform and spilled over the sides, creating a waterfall on all four edges.

“That’s not going to help,” I said.

Cole climbed back up, and the branch flipped back down.

I turned to Jack. “Okay, here’s what we know so far. We know that we have to keep the branch depressed while we retrieve the sickle, which we hope is on top of the platform. And we know that you and Cole are the ones who have to keep it depressed, because when Cole got off, my weight wasn’t enough to keep it down. Which means . . .”

Jack looked skyward. “It means you have to go to the platform. Alone.”

I nodded. Jack put his arm around me, and I leaned into his chest.

“I don’t like this, Becks,” Jack said, looking warily at the lake.

“What’s not to like? I’ve been wanting a chance to rock climb again. You remember that time at the Rock Garden?”

Jack smiled. “Yes.”

“I can do this.” We watched as the last few feet of water disappeared. And when it did, what it left behind made my blood turn cold. A dark shadow covered the deepest part of the lake. And it appeared to be moving.

“Are those Shades?” I asked, my voice weak.

“No,” Cole said. “Beetles.”

TWENTY-FOUR

NOW

The Everneath. Lake Tantalus.

“Beetles?” I repeated.

I squinted, but the middle of the lake was far enough away that I couldn’t see individual beetles. It just looked like the floor of the lake was moving.

“Yeah,” Cole said, narrowing his eyes. “About the size of half of your foot.”

I whipped my head around toward Cole. “Did you know they would be there?” I said.

“No. But I can see really well here. I see them.”

Jack shook his head. “You’re not going, Becks.”

This time it was my turn to smile and look skyward. “We’ve faced zombies and walls of fire and a queen bent on revenge. We’re not stopping because of a few bugs.” My voice broke on the last couple of words.

“Becks . . . ,” Jack said. He looked as if he wanted to jump off the branch, take me in his arms, and fly us out of the Underworld.

“Remember what you said at the rock-climbing gym?”

Jack closed his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about the top. You just have to worry about the first step.”

“And then what?”

“And then the next step,” he said.

I nodded. “That’s what I’m going to do. And hopefully, as I’m stepping, I’ll smash a few beetles along the way.”

Jack’s grip tightened around me.

“And I can’t take that first step unless you let me go.” I smiled at him.

Jack closed his eyes, sighed deeply, and quickly dropped his arms. I hurried and hopped off the branch before he could change his mind. It stayed down with Jack’s and Cole’s combined weight. I walked up to the former edge of the lake.

“Are they poisonous?” I asked Cole as I stared at the black mass.

“I don’t know,” Cole said. “The water’s not, though. I would think that if poisonous beetles lived in the lake, the water would be contaminated too.”

With a deep breath, I nodded. “Good theory.”

“But they could nibble you to death eventually,” Cole said.

I heard the distinct sound of Jack punching Cole’s shoulder.

“Ow,” Cole said. “So, stay conscious,” he said, as if he’d just told a small child to be safe at school.

“Step by step,” I muttered.

“Becks?” Jack said.

“Yeah?”

“I’d run.”

“Me too.”

I took off running toward the base of the platform, counting my steps along the way. Eventually Jack’s words of encouragement faded behind me. It was step one hundred and twenty-eight where I heard the crack and squish of my first beetle. I screamed and kept running.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. I tried to avoid them, but eventually I was crunching several with each step. I was scared to stop or slow down, because I was sure that this many beetles could overrun me if I let them.

I was panting.

The base of the rock platform loomed ahead of me, growing ever taller as I got closer.

Thankfully the wall of it was craggy, and I could already see there were some suitable toeholds and handholds. I kept my eyes on where I would put my hands so I didn’t think about the beetles scurrying at my feet.

After what felt like at least two miles of running, I reached the base and immediately started climbing. A wave of beetles tried to follow me, but they fell backward as the wall became steep. Once I was a few feet above them, I looked back to where I’d come from and saw that there was now a thicker line of black on the path I’d just taken, as if every beetle wanted to converge on it.

Maybe on the way back down I would take another path.

I started the climb, trying not to think about the facts that I wore no harness and there was no one to belay me. With sweaty fingers, I grabbed and tested each handhold, making sure it was strong enough before I made a move. Eventually the time between steps diminished as I got used to the routine of it.

I even stopped thinking about the crackling sound of the sea of beetles below me and thought instead of what waited for me on the top of the platform. If Cole was right, it would be the Sickle of Cronus, and at this rate I’d make it there in a few minutes. Once we had it in our hands, we would jump back to the Surface, regroup, and then make our first assault on the Everneath by destroying the Shade network with the sickle.

Once we succeeded, it would merely be the task of gathering every Everliving heart and destroying them.

I decided to skip that part in my daydream, because I was at the top of the platform. I’d made it. I hoisted myself over the edge and saw something lying there in the middle.

It looked ancient and made of stone, and it was shaped like a bent knife.

The sickle.

I grabbed it and turned toward the fruit tree, raising the sickle over my head. And that’s when I heard the scurrying feet behind me. I turned to see a flood of beetles coming up over the edge of the platform.

“Shit,” I whispered.

TWENTY-FIVE

NOW

The Everneath. Lake Tantalus.

I put the sickle against my back in the band of my jeans and scrambled over the edge, frantically feeling for handholds as beetles from the top of the platform began falling over the edge, pelting me on my head, my shoulders, my eyes. Several got tangled in my hair, scratching against my scalp and forehead and cheeks.

I tried not to scream. I didn’t want any to fall in my mouth.