Chapter Twenty-Three
The ringing of my cell phone woke me at 7 a.m. the following morning. The Wentworths’ home number appeared blurry through my tired eyes.
“Hello?” I croaked into the phone.
“Endora, it’s James Wentworth.”
“Morning,” I said, sitting up in my bed and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“My tech man was able to crack the password on Mark’s computer. You’re welcome to pick it up whenever it’s convenient for you.”
He’d gained my full attention, I was suddenly wide awake.
“Awesome. Can I come now?” I was already dialing Devon’s cell on my home phone.
“That would be fine. See you soon.”
The moment I hung up with Mr. Wentworth, I spun the dial on the antique phone one last time. Devon’s voice was scratchy and low. I heard what was meant to be “hello,” I think.
“Get dressed,” I said without preamble. “I’m coming to get you. Mr. Wentworth has the password to Dad’s laptop.”
“Already?”
“I know. Super fast, right? See you soon.”
I pulled on jeans and a tee-shirt that were crumbled on the floor next to my bed. Brushing my teeth seemed like a waste of time, so I just swished mouthwash while finger-combing the tangles from my hair.
Mom was downstairs in her home office. I poked my head through the open door and told her I was having breakfast with Devon. By the time she got out the words, “Have a nice time,” I was already halfway down the hallway.
I picked up Devon in record time. She was waiting in her driveway, and I already had the Bug in reverse when she dove into the car. Between the lack of traffic and the urgent need to get a look at the laptop, I made the forty-five minute drive to the Wentworths’ in just over half an hour. My father felt the need to password-protect this information, so I was hoping it held some of the answers to my burning questions. Where was my dad? Why would he go to the underworld? What was to become of me? Did I really have to spend my life answering to the gods? And which side was I even working for?
With all of this running through my head, I wasn’t exactly a glowing conversationalist on the ride. Devon filled the time by prattling off theories as to what we might find. I only halfway paid attention to her, lost in my own thoughts.
When we were finally there, the laptop exchange went smoothly. Mr. Wentworth gave us the computer and a piece of paper with passwords for all of the files. Jamieson wasn’t home, thank the gods. The last thing I needed right now was to engage in a verbal spar with her.
Mom was gone when we returned to my house with the laptop, bagels with cream cheese, and orange juice. She’d left a note explaining she needed some files that were at the office and would be home by dinnertime.
Devon was practically bouncing with excitement when she sat on the sofa. She booted up the laptop, selected the “Endora” file and entered the passcode. Within the larger file there were a number of sub-folders. The first was labeled, “Gates.” When Devon clicked on it, a list of seven cities appeared: Hilo, Alexandria, Athens, Bhaktapur, Buenos Aires, Perth, McMurdo Station.
So Mr. Haverty was right, Dad had found possible locations for the gates to the underworld.
“Do you have your phone?” Devon asked.
“My phone?” Confused, I pulled my cell from the back pocket of my jeans and handed it to her.
“Just as I thought,” Devon said, scrolling through the phone’s contents. She handed the phone back to me. Displayed on the screen were the pictures I’d taken of the maps in Dad’s house. “The pushpins on most of the maps are located in these cities, roughly.” Devon pointed to the list of seven cities on the laptop screen. “He has a couple extra pins on each of them, but they’re all blue. On every map the red pins correspond with the seven locations, give or take a couple degrees of latitude and longitude.”
I flipped through all of the pictures. Devon was right.
“I bet your father determined the seven gates to the underworld are located in these cities,” Devon was saying.
“I was thinking that, too,” I agreed.
“Now we just need to find out why he wanted to know where the gates were,” Devon said.
“That’s the million dollar question.”
Since neither of us had any ideas, we moved on to the next file. This one was labeled “SEC.” Samantha Elizabeth Cable, I realized the instant Devon clicked on it. My mouth went dry and I wanted to turn away from the computer screen. I couldn’t, though. I had to know why Dad felt the need to guard that information with a password. The moment the only document in the folder filled the screen, I wished that I’d listened to my gut. It was a digital copy of Samantha’s Death Certificate. Cause of Death: Exsanguination During Childbirth.
“I don’t want to see any more right now,” I said quietly.
Devon said nothing; she just closed the laptop without bothering to close the files or turn off the computer. She wrapped her arms around me. I didn’t how I was supposed to feel. Should I cry? Should I be mad? At whom? Mom for sparing me the truth? Myself for causing Samantha’s death?
“It isn’t your fault, Eel,” Devon whispered, rubbing my back.
“Really? Because she died giving birth to me, so that sort of sounds like it’s my fault,” I said pulling away from her embrace.
“No. Complications during childbirth are common, even now.”
“Can we just move on?” I asked. The way Devon was looking at me, with so much empathy, broke my heart. Her eyes watered, and I thought she might burst into tears at any second. My own eyes burned with unshed tears, but I wouldn’t allow myself to cry over something that couldn’t be changed, at least not until I was alone in my bedroom.
“Of course.” Devon smiled. “We have tons of other stuff to dredge through.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon pouring over my father’s books and notes. The books proved unhelpful, but some of Dad’s notes were interesting.
Apparently, Dad shared Kaydon’s confusion about how I’d been chosen to become an Egrgoroi. From what I could piece together, Dad had made an internet posting soliciting information from people who had the same electrical quirks that I did. Of course, when we tried to access the website, we were told that the site no longer existed.
There were legal pads filled with Dad’s interview notes. Again, Mr. Haverty’s information proved correct. My father had traveled to four continents to meet with other Egrgoroi. In his notes from an interview with a Mr. G. Rochester, Dad had circled Minos’s name and underlined it three times. I took that to mean he was somehow more important than the other two judges.
“What do you know about Minos?” I asked Devon.
She consulted her own notes before replying. “He is one of the judges. Son of Zeus and Europa. King of Crete at some point. Some say he is half-man, half-serpent.”
Half-man, half-serpent? Like the man carved on the box my newest necklace had come in. That probably meant the other two men on the lid were Rhadamanthus and Aeacus.
“Anything that makes him stand out from the other two judges?”
Devon scrolled through her notes again, her blue eyes lighting up when they landed on a pertinent piece of information.
“Some believe he is the appeals judge, like if you don’t agree with your sentence. You can appeal to him and he will let you argue your case for a better afterlife.”
“Huh,” I said.
Appeals judge. That would make him more important than the other two. Did Dad want to appeal my sentence? But wouldn’t that mean I would have to give back my second life? Sure, I wouldn’t be forced to carry out the work of the gods for the rest of my days, but I would also be dead. Living in Elysian Fields sounded nice and all, but I wouldn’t have my friends, finish high school, go to college, get married, or experience anything more at all. And there was always the chance that wasn’t where I’d go. What if I’d been judged evil? After all, Samantha had died giving birth to me. That probably hadn’t gone over well with the Panel.
I didn’t share my concerns with Devon. She was under the impression that I was destined for a wonderful afterlife among other angelic souls, and I wanted nothing to change that impression.
I continued reading Dad’s notes on G. Rochester. Just like Kaydon’s story, G. Rochester told Dad that Rhadamanthus said he was lucky to be over the age of consent. At sixteen, G. Rochester was old enough to enter into the Egrgoroi contract. His service to the chosen god would begin on his eighteenth birthday. Messages would be communicated to him whenever he was sleeping, unconscious, or in a meditative state.
It suddenly occurred to me that those situations other than sleeping must be why Kaydon wanted me to always wear my necklace. If I somehow lost consciousness or accidentally meditated, then I would be susceptible to the messages. What I didn’t understand was why both Kaydon and my father wanted to block the communications. I’d obviously made a deal to receive them and carry out the god’s wishes in exchange for returning to earth. Shouldn’t I be holding up my end of the bargain?
Devon tapped her pen against the coffee table, drawing my focus from the notes I was reading. Her brows were drawn together and she chewed her lower lip.
“You got something?” I asked.
“Not sure.” Devon began starring words on the page she was examining. She looked up. “Have you ever heard of the Daughters of Cassandra or the Apollo Society?”
I shook my head. “What are they?”
“Don’t know,” Devon admitted. “But your father has made several references to both in this notebook. And,” she turned the notebook towards me, “isn’t this the symbol that was on Mr. Haverty’s ring?”
Next to Dad’s mention of the Apollo Society was a crude drawing of a goblet with an eye in the center. The eye did look a lot like the one carved into the diner owner’s ring.
“Maybe they are other types of Egrgoroi?” I suggested, recalling what Kaydon had told me the night before. But that didn’t really fit in with what I knew about Egrgoroi. I’d never felt any unease in his presence, and when he placed his hand on mine, no shock passed between us.
Devon stared at me like I had three heads. So, I launched into an explanation similar to the one Kaydon had given me to describe the lake creature.
“Fascinating,” Devon mused, blue eyes alight with interest. “So there really was a mermaid in the water?”
“I guess so.” Truthfully, all of this was incredibly intriguing, and if I’d been researching the topic purely for academic purposes, I might have shared her enthusiasm. Right now, though, all of this new information just made my head hurt.
“Dev?”
“Hmmm?” She had once again buried her head in a book.
“Do you think he found a way into the underworld?”
When we started on this fact-finding mission, I’d been certain that my father’s research would provide us with the clues we needed to find him. The deeper we delved, the more I hoped that wouldn’t be the case. All signs were starting to point south, to the underworld. And that scared me. Appealing my sentence, if that was what he was doing, was not worth risking his life in the process.
“Truth?” Devon asked after a long pause.
“Truth,” I answered.
Devon sighed heavily. “I do.”
That was what I’d been afraid of.
“I’m not sure how he figured out the locations of the gates, but the maps prove he did. Not to mention what he told Mr. Haverty.”
“Do you think that is where he is now? In the underworld?”
“I think there is a strong possibility.”
“Do you think he’s dead?”
My best friend hesitated. Her eyes were sad when she met my imploring gaze. “I don’t know, Eel. I hope not.”
Me, too, I thought. Me, too.
****
“How did Aunt Sam really die?” I asked Mom.
We were seated at the kitchen table, both of us with untouched plates of chicken and broccoli in Alfredo sauce on our placemats. I already knew the answer to my question, of course, but I wanted to see if Mom was ready for full disclosure or if she would continue to lie to me.
Mom stared past me, absently twirling a long strand of pasta with her fork. Her short black hair was pulled back with a clip, a look that usually made her appear younger than she actually was. But today she looked old, tired and old.
“There were complications with your birth,” she finally said. “Sam, well, she lost too much blood.”
Hearing my mother say it was a lot worse than reading it on Dad’s laptop. I’d steeled myself for the answer before asking the question, but was still unprepared. Tears made my mother’s face swim before my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. I picked up a piece of broccoli with my fingers and popped it in my mouth as a distraction.
“But you’d already made the decision to adopt me by that point? I mean, even if Sam had lived, you still would have raised me?” I was surprised by how even my tone was, how calm I sounded discussing this.
“Yes. That was the plan from the moment Sam decided to see the pregnancy through.”
“So she never wanted me?” Now my voice broke. Everything I’d been holding inside had finally become too much. No amount of blinking, or tearing my napkin, or promising myself I could cry once I was alone, could stop the sobs and waterworks.
I wrapped my arms across my stomach, rocking back and forth in my chair. Mom was beside me in a flash, gathering me in her arms and stroking my hair, something she hadn’t done in over a decade.
“No, baby,” she mumbled against my hair. “She did. She just knew she would never be able to take care of you. She could barely take care of herself. But she did want you. And your father and I wanted you. We love you. She loved you.”
The fact she called me baby – Mom only ever called me Endora or Endora Lee – made me cry harder. She continued to stroke my hair and rub my back as she made what passed for soothing noises. We stayed like that for a long time; it felt good to let it all out. I hadn’t cried so hard since the day the judge terminated my father’s parental rights.
Once I was no longer a blubbering mess, Mom put water in the kettle and made two cups of green tea. She disappeared into her home office while the water heated, returning with a well-worn photo album. We sat together on the living room sofa. Mom held my hand and told me stories about her younger sister - my birth mother - and showed me pictures of the two of them from childhood. They weren’t the stories I’d already heard, like about how Sam was irresponsible and selfish. These stories were funny and sweet and made me miss a woman that I never knew.
Mom apologized for keeping the truth a secret for so long. Holding a grudge was too taxing, so I promised to try and move past the lie.
“You should probably go to bed, Endora; it’s late,” Mom said after our third cup of tea.
I rose to my feet, but Mom stayed seated. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it without speaking. I waited, dreading whatever she might disclose next.
“I spoke with James today,” she finally said. “Regardless of what happened between us, I do want to find your father. I told James that I will help in any way I can.” She paused. “He has also offered to help find your biological father if you want that. Samantha never told anyone who he was, but we can try to find out. Take some time to think about it, though. It is not a decision you need to make tonight.”
Did I want to meet my biological father? I wasn’t really sure. There was so much going on in my life that meeting a man who may not even know I existed, let alone that I was his offspring, was daunting.
“I’ll think about it,” I promised my mother. “And thank you for helping to find Dad.”
Mom squeezed my hand, then released me to go to my bedroom. She stayed where she was, though. When I looked back, she had picked up the photo album again and was flipping through the pages.