Page 6 of Taking Orders in the Underworld

The entire team went silent, waiting for the tension of the room to dissipate and see what wreckage was left behind from Nika’s words.

“Oh come on, Nika. It’ll be fun!” Tomas tried to break the tension – tried and failed.

He was sent a scathing look from her for his efforts.

Garth’s words, on the other hand, found their mark.

“You can either help the team drum up new business or you can leave.”

CHAPTER THREE: The return to Tartarus

Nika had stormed out.

Her worst fear had come to pass – she was losing the only place she’d ever loved. Even if Garth didn’t fire her, he’d drive that place into the ground trying to prove that he’d made the right decision.

She had to find a way to save it.

Overnight, a plan had begun to formulate in her mind. Something in her reminiscing recently must have jogged her memory, for when she was brainstorming, Orpheus had popped into her mind. She recalled seeing him in the caves below Tartarus when she was a young spirit. The once great musician who was now a recluse. If the rumours were true, he stayed in the caves voluntarily to avoid Hades, whom Orpheus had slighted. Apparently, he had made a mockery of Hades by trying to take his own wife out of the Underworld and back to the world of the living.

If Nika could find a way to get the recluse maestro to come out and play, specifically at Zeus’ Watering Hole, that would be the ticket that would have them back to turning a profit comfortably –withoutcutting corners or relying on another investor. Perhaps then Garth would forgive her for storming out, too.

Not that he didn’t share some, if notall, of the blame for that.

There was only one problem. If Nika was to go to the caves to find Orpheus it would mean she’d have to return to Tartarus, and she hadn’t exactly left her family on good terms all those centuries ago.

She also hadn’t been back since.

Young Nika hadn’t had the nerve to tell her mother she didn’t want to do the job she’d been born for. Instead, she’d waited until her parents were both sleeping and then snuck away in the bright light of day. For Nika’s mother was none other than the Goddess and personification of night itself, Nyx. And her father was the personification of darkness, Erebus.

If she was to go to Tartarus to look for Orpheus, there would be no way to avoid them. They were the deities that presided over the neighbourhood itself. They’d likely know the minute she stepped foot over the border again.

But, with no better plan in mind, Nika began packing a small, black, leather bag etched with one of Hephaestus' stamps that said the bag had been crafted in Mount Olympus and shipped down here on one of the freight canoes that Charon ran, now that he’d expanded his boating business.

The bag was only big enough to fit enough items that would get her across the Tartarus border: distilled water from the rivers, a loaf of bread that Rae had baked that Nika begrudgingly admitted was pretty good with its rosemary and olive oil glazed crust, and a couple of extra layers of clothes. Finally, cramming a thick chequered scarf that would help her withstand the icy wind nymphs of Tartarus into her bag, Nika slung it over her shoulder and strode out of her house – making sure to lock the door behind her.

On the northern side of Styx’s border, closer to the river Lethe than anywhere else in the Underworld, it would take almost a day to cross the Asphodel rolling hills and plains, where green hills gave way to large stretches of dense forests and ploughed farming fields. Nika had left the meadows early enough that it was late afternoon by the time she heard the tell-tale sign that she was getting close to Tartarus – the wailing.

A thousand brokenhearted cries, from Souls that had spent their mortal lives pursuing the love of another who did not love them back, rose up to greet her. As Nika walked closer, they rose up over the horizon – a throng of phantom forms with desperation draped around them, so dense Nika could almost see it. As she got closer still, they began to swarm her.

“Please, miss, just tell me where my Henry is. Is he beyond the flame-filled river? Tell me where to find him.”

“Miss, have you seen my Penelope?”

“Where is Crantor?!”

“I’m looking for Arrian. Arrian! Arrian!”

“Selene? Is she with you?”

“Get off me,” Nika muttered, swatting away bone-white, cold hands that reached and clawed at her. “You are wasting your time, just like you did in the mortal realm. Leave. Me. Alone!”

Nika hated the Vale of Mourning, for that was what this stretch of land was known for. Though she hated it, Nika hadn’t had much choice. She’d either had to pass through here or the Plains of Judgement, and Nika didn’t particularly want to cross paths with the three judges of the dead. What if she was mistaken for one who had come for judgement of her deeds, and the judges decided on a new placement for her?Gods knewwhat they would hold over her for the rest of her immortal life.

No, far better to move through the heartbroken. They were a nuisance, but once she got to the Phlegethon – the flame-filled river – they would leave her alone. These Souls weren’t brave enough to cross it, though not many were, Nika supposed.

Ironically, if the heartbrokendidfind the courage to cross the flames, they’d find their heartbreak eradicated, free from the spell of sleeping Eros and cruel Aphrodite. The thing that made these Souls such a scourge was the fact they would rather remain lamenting their plight on others than find the courage to choose better for themselves. It was why the judges sent them here.

Then, Nika heard the most interesting request. “Is Orpheus in the place you come from or where you go?”

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