Hazel’s voice died as she looked around her. She’d been so focused on Asterion she hadn’t really taken in her surroundings.
They were in some sort of park, and they weren’t alone. Rows of stunted knobby cypress trees stretched in either direction, like the ones in Civic Center Plaza. This space was much bigger, though—a shallow oval basin about a quarter mile wide and twice as long. The shape reminded Hazel of the Circus Maximus back in New Rome, an image reinforced by the half-dozen centaurs presently galloping around the perimeter, apparently looking for a way out.
Park benches lined the walkways, and most of the seats were taken by mythic beings. Two satyrs were having an argument, fighting over a lunch bag. A dog-headed man—a cynocephalus—was passed out asleep, his hands and feet twitching like he was chasing rabbits in his dreams. In the pool of a nearby fountain, a pack of telkhines lounged like wayward sea lions, unconcerned by the bronze Colchis bull drinking nearby, its fiery breath making the water boil.
At the near end of the park rose a sandstone band shell flanked by classical columns. Standing on the steps was a woman holding a toddler…except as Hazel studied them more closely, she realized the toddler had leafy green wings, and the woman’s hair was on fire.
“Arielle?” Hazel muttered in disbelief. “Arielle! Quinoa!”
She ran toward them, stumbling as she tried to regain the use of her body. Asterion followed in her wake.
Arielle and Quinoa spotted her and came running.
“Hazel Levesque!” Quinoa launched himself from Arielle’s arms straight into Hazel’s. “You actually found us!”
Arielle grinned, which was a little unnerving given the fangs, but she looked delighted.
“I never thought I’d be so happy to see a demigod,” said the empousa. “But how are you here? You’re not a mythic— Oof!”
That last sound came when Hazel wrapped her in a hug, squeezing Quinoa between them. Hazel didn’t even care that the empousa’s flaming head was probably singeing her own hair, or that Arielle’s donkey hoof was now on her toes. She was so glad to see the mythics alive.
Finally, Quinoa mumbled, “Can’t…breathe.”
Hazel stepped back, blinking away happy tears. “Thank the gods you’re alive! But what is going on here?”
“We’d like to know that too,” said Arielle. “Short answer: we’re trapped.”
“Trapped?” Hazel scanned the area. “But…”
From where they stood, Hazel could see numerous sets of steps leading out of the basin. There were no walls, no barricades, just flower beds lining the embankments. Cars and tour buses moved freely along the road that circled the park. Beyond that, buildings peeked over the treetops. The nearest was a long angular wedge of dark stone—maybe an art museum?
“How are we trapped?” she asked.
Then she spotted the centaurs again, galloping around the perimeter. Every so often they would stop to throw themselves at the steps or try to leap over the hedges, only to bounce back in frustration. Some were repelled so forcefully they tumbled head over hooves.
Asterion extended a hand. “Come, we’ll show you.”
Hazel followed the empousa and Asterion while Quinoa nestled in the crook of her arm. His claws dug into Hazel’s chest. His leafy wings were scratchy against her skin, but she didn’t mind. She never thought she’d feel motherly toward an herbaceous plant, but she would’ve fought off a drakon to protect the karpos.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to. They passed one small drakon—a baby no more than twenty feet long, curled around a metal lamppost—but it didn’t seem interested in fighting. It was too busy scanning the horizon like a lookout from a crow’s nest.
A giant boar eyed her suspiciously and then went back to rubbing its tusks against a tree trunk. A harpy roosting in the branches above screeched down at it, “Could you not?” A few feet away, something that looked like a massive badger burrowed into the sandy soil like it was trying to dig an escape tunnel.
Arielle led them to a nearby stairway that led up to the road. She stopped just short of the bottom step and then turned to Hazel.
“Open your hand so it is flat,” said the empousa. “Press gently. Otherwise, you may get hurt.”
Hazel didn’t like the sound of that, but she did as Arielle told her to, pushing her palm outward. She felt silly, like a mime in an imaginary box, until she touched somethingsolid—a cold, hard, invisible wall.
She pulled her hand away. “What is that?”
“Like I said,” replied Arielle. “We’re trapped.”
Outside the invisible wall, mortal life continued as usual. A taxi drove past. A man jogged by pushing a stroller, a pit bull running alongside on a leash.
“Hey!” Hazel shouted at the jogger. “Can you hear me?”
The man just kept running. Even the dog didn’t look in her direction.
