Goddess in Time by Tera Lynn Childs Page B

weird,” Xander says as we move quickly to the ballroom doors. “We haven’t seen a single person since we got here.”
    “Yeah, well,” I say, reaching for the handle of the door on the right and finding it, thankfully, unlocked, “I guess Hades isn’t quite the social hot spot it used to be.”
    I don’t take time to look around. And I don’t bother quieting my bootsteps in the empty space as I race across the room to the curtain-covered back wall. Stopping at the center, I peel back the heavy red drape, looking for the alcove that—according to the map—contains the door to the Hall of Springtime.
    Instead, I find only a solid black wall being guarded by sleeping giant.
    I start to back out away from the alcove, but the giant’s eyes blink open. I expect him to yell for help or make a grab for me. But when his gaze doesn’t find me—doesn’t even look for me—I notice that he has no irises. No pupils.
    He’s blind.
    “Who seeks to pass?” the blind giant asks, his deep voice echoing in the small alcove.
    I glance back over my shoulder. Xander shrugs and gives me a helpless look.
    No turning back now.
    “Nicole Matios,” I say, and mentally cross my fingers.
    “Speak the password, Nicole Matios,” the giant says.
    “Password?” I echo.
    Crap. I don’t know the password. Nothing ever said anything about a stupid password. I knew things were going too smoothly.
    “I, um—” I glance back at Xander, who shrugs and shakes his head. He’s just as clueless as I am.
    “I forgot,” I say. “Sorry.”
    “Then you must solve the riddle,” the giant says. “None but my master and his bride can know the answer.”
    Great. How on earth—or in Hades—am I supposed to solve a riddle that only Hades himself and dingbat Persephone could know the answer to? It’s not like I have any other options, though. The ruby pomegranate seeds I need are in the hall somewhere behind this guard. I have to try.
    “Okay,” I say. “Shoot.”
    “Name the power that binds Queen Persephone to the underworld.”
    “Name the power?” I echo. “Um, give us a sec.”
    I grab Xander by the sleeve and pull him a few feet away from the alcove, letting the curtain fall back into place to give us some privacy for discussion.
    “What does he mean?” I ask. “The power that binds her? What keeps her in Hades?”
    Xander jams his hands into his jeans pockets. “I don’t know. It could mean the pomegranate seeds,” he suggests. “She has to stay here nine months a year because she ate them.”
    “That seems too simple.” And again, when it comes to the gods nothing is simple. “It could be Olympic decree. The gods decided the terms of her sentence.”
    “Or the Fates.” Xander’s face lights up with inspiration. “Supposedly, it was the Fates who decided that anyone who ate something while in Hades could never leave.”
    Pomegranate seeds. The Olympians. The Fates?
    They all seem possible.
    But they all seem . . . easy. Nothing about those choices is a secret. They’re not things only Hades and Persephone would know. Those are details from the common myths.
    “It has to be something more obscure,” I insist.
    I start pacing.
    How am I going to figure this out? I’ve come this far, collected two of the three objects. I can’t fail now. I won’t give up.
    All at once, the sheer impossibility of my quest hits me. I’ve done two impossible things already; I’m not sure I can pull off a third. And then what? After I get the objects, I still have to call on Chronos and then my ancestor god. Won’t that be fun? The book was pretty vague after that. Who knows what I will face if I ever get the pomegranate seeds and get the chance to call the god of time.
    I stop midpace and cover my face with my hands.
    I was stupid to even think I could pull this off.
    As I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the tears of despair that I feel tingling, I try to stop thinking about the big picture—the pressure and the