Charon snarled. “And who stole my pretty soul?”
Eirikr considered punching the guy, but that might have been counterproductive. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.” Eirikr pointed to the far shore. “Take me there, please, Charon.”
The creature eyes Eirikr with narrowed pupils.
“I prayed to my mother’s gods in my mortal days—the Norse. Then, I learned the gods cared nothing for our fates and I ceased to worship. But I ask you, friend. Let me pass. Let me catch the thief.”
“And save the redhead?” Charon checked.
Eirikr nodded solemnly.
“Hm. I suppose, if you bring her back to life, I can see her the next time she dies.” The creature smirked. “And if she doesn’t have coins on her, there are other ways pretty girls can pay me to take them across.”
Eirikr wasn’t certain how he managed to prevent himself from hitting the ass this time.
“As for you, I do hope you have payment. I don’t do freebies.” Charon’s glance swept over him. “And I don’t do blonds either.”
Eirikr removed the ring on his little finger, tossing it at Charon. “Will this do?”
Pure gold and set with a ruby, it was the most precious of the three rings he wore, though it was the one he cared for the least.
Charon brought the ring to his eyes, whistled, and sat down, grabbing the tiller. Two black sails appeared, and the boat picked up speed on the dark river. On the railing, lanterns lit green burst to life, and the souls daring to approach the boat again in the river scattered, leaving a clear path in the boat’s way.
“Premium transfer to Hades, coming up.”
9
AFTER DARKNESS FALLS
Greer was hungry, thirsty, tired, and soaked in sweat. How was that supposed to work? Were ghosts supposed to have three meals a day and five servings of fruit and veggies, too?
Her stomach rumbled in agreement. Grunting, she sat where she stood, in the middle of a magenta poppy field.
She was still wearing the same tattered clothing she had on when she died, and it was in pieces. She’d ripped her jeans and sweater in several places in her attempts to get out of the endless prison. Her various cuts and bruises seemed a little better—all the blood had dried, and she didn’t feel too sore anymore. But her muscles were begging for a break.
Her brown leather sandals were dusted in pink pollen. At least her allergies hadn’t been aggravated.
Athena’s priest told her to trek through the fields, following the river. By nightfall, she should reach the edges of a grove—Artemis’s temple—where she might find shelter at night. “Don’t travel at night defenseless. There are things in the dark you do not want to encounter.”
Glad to hear Olympus wasn’t any different from anywhere on Earth.
From Artemis’s domain, she could travel to her brother Apollo’s temple within half a day and speak to his oracle, who’d tell her the better path.
“Can’t I just go to Hera’s by myself?” she’d asked.
“It would take two weeks on foot, at the earliest.”
Two weeks. She’d disappear in half that, never reaching her goal.
“See, you’re in bastard country, for lack of a better term.” Patrick made a face. “Athena might be a wise and respected member of the Twelve Olympians, but she’s nonetheless a child of Zeus, one not born of Hera. The queen of Olympus stays as far as she can from her husband’s by-blows.” He waved to the left, downhill. “The original Olympians, the children of the Titans, live further north, and Hera’s home is with Zeus’s—atop the peak humans did call Olympus in the old days. Her temple is at the base of the mountain. Seek the oracle, if you wish to complete your task on time.”
The priest made it sound like a logical plan. He’d failed to mention she could be plagued by hunger, thirst, and fatigue on her journey. If she’d known that was a possibility, she might have gotten some supplies for the trip.
Maybe because the priest hadn’t expected her to need it, either. It made no sense to her. She was dead.
Dead, and dead tired.
Greer didn’t know how long she’d spent sitting down miserably on Barbie’s favorite field, but her eyes started to notice a change in the distance.
The explosion of color burning her eyes started to become more bearable. It was nice, for a while. Olympus was enchanting at sunset. She could imagine staying right there forever.
How easy would that be? Just letting go, stopping the fight. She wouldn’t have to be so tired or hungry. She could just be.
Yes. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Let go, Aurora.
She blinked, startled. That wasn’t her name…though it felt familiar, like an old memory buried at the edge of her consciousness.
It felt like a truth underneath too many lies, or a lie disguised as truth.
Aurora.
The name pulsed around her, awakening things she hadn’t ever known were part of her.
A laugh in the wind. A smell so pure, void of modern pollution. And fear. So much fear.
Aurora ran through the woods, branches twisting to cut off her path. Daring a glance over her shoulder, she didn’t see the root grow under her foot and take her down.
She crawled away, tears on her pretty white cheeks—so different from Greer’s golden skin.
A beautiful woman with the brightest of red curls strolled to her, green eyes blazing. “You can’t escape your fate, daughter. Let go.”
She knew that voice, just as well as she knew that name.
Greer’s limbs were still heavy as lead, her throat parched, and she felt dizzy with hunger. Still, she turned her back on the darkening horizon.
There are things in the dark you do not want to encounter.
She ran.
10
COMPANY
With the ferryman’s aid, they approached the shores of Hades in no time, and without the encumbrance of cursed souls attempting to board.
He wasn’t certain what he’d expected, but this wasn’t it.
Before his eyes stretched a golden beach with clean sand. There was even an area with parasols and loungers. In the distance, he could see a red and gold palace with many towers and at least a thousand chimneys.
The ferryman smoothly brought them to the dock and waved gracefully. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”
Eirikr couldn’t get out of the boat fast enough. If he never saw this river again, it would be too soon. The certainty that he’d cross it again someday made him wince. He’d make sure he had enough payment for another VIP trip when his soul came to the Styx for his last journey.
His feet had just hit the sandy shores when Charon’s voice made him glance back. “Styx is a jealous mistress, you know. When she claims you, she doesn’t let go for any of the other gods. She’s a granddaughter of the great Titans, yet few remember her existence.”
Eirikr frowned. He did recall that the river had taken the name of the goddess who guarded it, but he knew little about Styx. Which corroborated Charon’s claim. He just failed to see how any of that was his problem. “So?”
Charon’s smirk was infuriating as he glanced down to Eirikr’s arm. Right where the soul had touched him—the acid had burned most of his clothes, though his skin was already healed.