Unhinged

by Chani Lynn Feener

  He shook his head. “I’ve been sent here for your boyfriend, Spencer. And I’m not leaving without him.”

  “What are you talking about?” It dawned on her, and she took a single step closer before she could think better of it. “To the other side? That’s where you want to take him?”

  “I keep telling him I’m not going,” Micah spoke then. He was at her side and gripping her arm in a flash. “I won’t leave her.”

  Ferris looked bored. “You’re dead, dude. Move on.”

  “No.”

  “Are you a ghost, too?” she asked.

  “No,” Ferris ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I am not.”

  “But you can see him? And get places really fast…make people believe that they’ve met you before…How?”

  “None of that matters,” he said. “I have a job to do, Micah. Come along.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Micah spat, tugging her to the other side of the room along with him.

  “This isn’t just about you. Do you think you’re the only soul that needs ferrying? There are others, loads of others, and they’re all being neglected right now because you’re too stubborn to see reason. We’ve had this conversation before, friend. The first time. You understood then. What happened?”

  Micah was frowning and shaking his head. It was obvious he didn’t know what Ferris was talking about any more than she did. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

  He gave him a, no duh, stare. “I wasn’t speaking of your life, but your afterlife. Who do you think brought you to the Underworld? Did you just wake up and assume you’d magically appeared all on your own? How did you make your way out, anyway? We’re all wondering.”

  “I…” he shook his head again.

  “He can’t remember anything,” Spencer spoke for him.

  “He doesn’t recall being in the Underworld?” This seemed to shock Ferris. “That’s impossible.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed.

  “I’m currently talking to you and my deceased boyfriend. I’m starting to think nothing is impossible.” She took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

  “One day,” Ferris began, “you’ll get over that. But hopefully not for a very long while. There are rules to everything, Spencer. Even the dead must follow them. Micah is not supposed to be here. This isn’t where he belongs anymore.”

  “Wherever she is,” he interrupted, “that’s where I belong.”

  “No,” Ferris disagreed, “it isn’t. You died. She didn’t. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Nothing about this is simple!” her outburst drew both of their attentions back to her. “Why do you need to take him? And how does he not remember where he’s been?”

  “To answer the first, it’s my job. As to the second…I’m not exactly sure. It doesn’t make any more sense to me than it does you. Fact of the matter is, he shouldn’t be able to get here at all. Once a soul crosses into the Underworld, they stay there.”

  Unless someone retrieves them, she thought, but smartly kept it to herself.

  “But I never did that,” Micah insisted.

  “Really?” he quirked a brow. “So then where did you go after you died? Was it straight to this room? This house?”

  Micah glanced away.

  “I already told you,” Spencer said. “He can’t remember.”

  “That’s convenient.”

  “No, not really.” She was so not liking his attitude. “What’s your problem anyway?”

  “Problem?” He grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t have a problem. You have a problem. He has a problem. Me? I’ve just got a job to do, that’s all. I take the souls across the river, into the Underworld. A task that I’ve already completed where Micah is concerned. Imagine my surprise when I was summoned and told that he’d found his way out again.”

  Bits of information from past mythology lessons over the years began to piece themselves together. At one point when she’d been eleven, she’d been obsessed with Greek myths. She’d gotten over that stage as soon as an interest in boys had developed, but she could still recall enough if need be.

  “You’re Charon?” She furrowed her brow.

  Charon was supposed to be the ferryman who rowed souls across the river Acheron, which is what he’d basically just admitted to doing. Except she’d always thought of him as a balding scary dude in a black cloak, not the seventeen looking brunette standing before her.

  Now it all made sense, at least the part about him finding her at Phil’s and his rant about the Underworld. He’d known the whole time about her and Micah and he’d been trying to rile her up.

  “Charlie, actually,” he said, distaste dripping from his tongue. “My name is Charlie Ferris. Charon is just what the Greeks decided to call me. They got a lot wrong, you know?”

  “But you are him, right?” she pressed. Because if he was, then that meant that Mr. Kemmer had been right this morning when he’d spoken of the existence of the Underworld. And if he’d been right about that… “You’re the ferryman?”

  “Ferris the Ferryman?” Micah made a face. “Yikes.”

  Ferris gifted him with another one of his glares before turning back to her. “I’m a Ferryman, yes. One of many. You might know me better by the term Reaper. As in, Grim Reaper? What I am has many names, many titles. But all you really need to know is that I’m the Ferryman who’s been assigned to Micah. I need to get him back.”

  “But I don’t even remember being there a first time!” Micah grated.

  “Yes,” he nodded. “That is…strange. Still—” Suddenly he stopped, cocking his head to the side at an angle as if he was listening to something.

  Spencer tried to hear whatever it was, but there was nothing. This just kept getting weirder and weirder. When he remained that way for a long time, she sighed. “Still…what?”

  He blinked a few times, as if coming out of a daze, and glanced at them like he’d forgotten they were there. He seemed more displeased than he had before, and when he took a step back, he clenched his fists tightly at his sides. A strange black smoke began to snake its way around him, slinking up his torso and arms.

  “It seems you’ve bought yourself another night,” he said, directing his comment to Micah. “We’ll do this again, and next time I won’t be leaving alone.”

  The smoky tendrils tightened, and before she could blink he was gone. There wasn’t a single trace of him left in the room.

  She was shaking a little when she looked back at Micah, but his eyes were still glued to the spot that had just been vacated. She tried to rest a hand on his shoulder, but her palm went right through him. They’d used up their five minutes when he’d dragged her away from Ferris.

  “Micah?” At the sound of her voice he seemed to snap back.

  “I didn’t like him very much,” he half-joked, trying to crack a smile at her and failing.

  “He was a grade A jerk,” she agreed.

  He was paler than usual—which was saying a lot all things considered—and was nibbling on his lower lip with an intense concentration that freaked her out almost as much as the Ferryman had.

  “You didn’t sound surprised,” he said then, breaking the silence. When she frowned he elaborated. “When he mentioned the Underworld? You didn’t seem surprised. Earlier you asked me about where I went, after. What’s going on, Spencer?”

  “I don’t know.” She proceeded to tell him about the class discussion that had inadvertently placed her on this path, and the strange encounter with Ferris at Phil’s.

  “Do you think he was watching me?” she asked once she’d finished. “Maybe trying to gauge my reaction before coming here for you?”

  Micah shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. But now that he’s mentioned it…he does look really familiar, almost like I’ve seen him once before in a dream or something. Do you think he’s telling the truth? I mean the Underworld…like Hades and Greek gods and all that junk? I don’t believe in any of that s
tuff.”

  She lowered herself down onto the bed next to him, tucking her legs underneath her. “You didn’t believe in ghosts either,” she reminded him.

  “This is just a lot to process,” he said.

  They fell into a deep silence, the two of them lost in their own thoughts. She glanced around her room, noticing things that she hadn’t for a while. Her bedroom door was directly across from the queen sized bed she had pushed against the far wall. To the right was her white desk with an oval shaped mirror hanging over it. Photographs of the two of them and more of their friends littered the edges of the reflective surface.

  To the left was a door that led into her tiny bathroom and another that opened up to her closet, a space just big enough for her to huddle inside during games of hide-and-seek. It had been their favorite when they were kids, and Micah had always managed to find her, no matter where she’d hidden.

  With the memory, fresh determination sparked. They couldn’t hide out in this room with the maroon carpets and walls covered in various movie posters forever. The past two months she’d spent locked away, trapping them both.

  He’d always found her, now it was her turn to find him.

  She hadn’t been seriously considering finding the Underworld, she’d realized. Up until that moment it had just been another coping mechanism, a place to aim her thoughts so that she wouldn’t just break down again.

  But now…

  Ferris the Ferryman.

  A door to the Underworld.

  Chapter 4:

  School was just about the last thing on her mind. She had, however, done the reading for Mr. Kemmer’s class, considering they’d still been working on the Persephone myth.

  She still held true with her initial thoughts. The girl was lucky either way. If she had eventually fallen in love with Hades—though how could she have?—then she still got at least six months out of every year with him. And if she hadn’t, well then she still got six months with her mother.

  In a way, she was lucky too. Micah was dead, sure, but she still had him. She could still go home and talk to him, sometimes touch him. His mother didn’t get that same gift, nor did any of their friends. She wondered over it, why she was the one who got to see him.

  The first four classes of the day droned on, the only interesting part being her Myths and Folklore first period. Of course, she hadn’t learned anything she didn’t already know. She’d done enough research last night to teach the damn class herself. Perks of having a literary professor as a dad: tons of study material.

  It had been three in the morning by the time Micah had been able to convince her to go to bed, and her alarm had blared to life at six-fifteen sharp. It had felt like a crack in her skull until she’d seen him sitting on the edge of her bed. He was a comfort that even lack of sleep couldn’t take away.

  “What is he doing here?” Quinn’s voice cut into her thoughts, and she frowned and glanced over at her. The dark haired girl was looking at something across the food court, where they were sitting and eating lunch.

  Following her gaze, Spencer sucked in a breath when her green eyes landed on Ferris.

  He was making his way over to them, a confidant kick to his step. Like he belonged there. Like he was a part of all of this. Him, a Ferryman, a part of fifth period lunch in a small town high school? Yeah, right.

  He looked the same as he had the night before, only he’d added a midnight black leather jacket over his t-shirt. He easily maneuvered his way through the crowds, drawing little to no attention as he did so; which was strange, considering it was a small school and surely people would notice if there was a new kid.

  The whole time he kept his gaze locked onto hers, almost like he was attempting to intimidate her.

  Fact of the matter was she didn’t really know what a Ferryman was capable of. As a Reaper though, Ferris had to have some pretty badass skills, right? Ones she probably did not want to mess with. Unless it would get her closer to finding a way to bring Micah back, that was.

  He finally reached them and slid into the chair across from hers, right next to Sydney who, like the rest of the student body, barely seemed to notice him. A second went by where he just sat there in silence, and then one corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

  The second he made the move, Syd swished her head around, as if seeing him there for the first time. Her blue eyes lighted with something and she leaned in closer, propping her elbow onto the green surface of the rectangular table so she could twist a lock of her golden hair around her pointer finger as she simultaneously batted her eyelashes.

  If Sydney only knew what she was flirting with…

  “Hey, you!” she giggled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Didn’t I just...?” Quinn gave Spencer a questioning look. True, she’d somehow been able to see the Ferryman from across the quad.

  A quick glance in said Ferryman’s direction and she thought she might know why. Despite the blonde at his side, eagerly fanning herself in front of him, Ferris was smiling towards Quinn. And not the harsh, berating smiles he sent Spencer’s way either, but an actual bonafide smile.

  What the hell?

  “My friend’s being difficult,” Ferris returned his glower on Spence at that. “Won’t leave. Figured I’d come check out the school and hang with you guys for a bit.”

  “How long’s a bit?” Syd asked. “We only have another ten or so minutes before the bell rings.”

  It was nice out today, with a warm sun that beat down from above reminding them that there were still a few weeks of Summerish weather left. A cool breeze blew by, kissing their skin, bringing with it the smell of fresh cut grass.

  It seemed too nice of a day to be ruined, but Ferris’s presence only made Spencer even more eager to find a way to help Micah.

  “I’ll leave when you do,” he responded, eyes narrowing onto Spence’s. There was an unmistakable glint of humor there. “The lady at the front desk was nice enough to let me in, so I can stay as long as it takes.”

  “Takes to do what?” Syd tilted her head.

  He stared pointedly at Spencer.

  “So where do you come from, Ferris?” she asked, quickly trying to turn the subject around. If she only had ten minutes to grill him, then she was going to use them wisely, not allow him to try and out her in front of her friends.

  Not that there was anything for him to out her on, per se. Technically, she hadn’t done anything but think up this crazy scheme that more than likely wouldn’t work.

  “You’ve never been,” he assured her. He leaned back in his chair, clearly liking the game going on between them.

  “Is it another country?” Quinn sounded really interested. She even pushed her gray tray away, leaving her hotdog untouched. For the best, no doubt. “If so, you’re right. None of us have ever been out of the U.S.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched again. “You could say that. It’s certainly different from what you’re used to. Now that I think about it though, Spencer? Didn’t you mention last night that you knew someone from the same place?”

  This time she was the one to narrow her eyes. “No, I don’t believe I did.”

  “Yeah,” Syd glanced between the two of them. “When was this? I don’t remember that happening. Maybe we could come visit you some time.”

  “You’ll get there. Eventually.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as a cloud moved just enough to cast a beam of sunlight down on him.

  “Not much sun where you’re from?” Spencer pushed, liking the way he snapped back to attention. He was doing his best to make her uncomfortable, well then she was going to return the favor.

  “It’s warm enough,” was his reply, and the reminder of just where it was he was actually from sent a shiver racing up her spine.

  “Bet you miss it,” she went on. “How do you get there anyway? I mean, if it’s another country. Do you fly? Or is there another way, maybe?”

  “You wouldn’t be able to afford the price even if you
knew.”

  Oh, he was good. Well, that definitely proved that he was following her train of thought. Now just to find a way to get him to actually divulge something useful without the others catching on. She didn’t want to be blatantly obvious about it. They’d think she was nuts, and he’d more than likely just pretend not to understand.

  “Let’s just say that I was,” she took a deep breath, steeling herself, “that I was willing to pay whatever it cost. How would I go about getting…a ticket?”

  “You’d need a passport,” he said. “A very specific one.”

  “Ok, if I didn’t have one? It’s been done before, I’m sure. No, I know it has.”

  He seemed a little surprised by this, and then a little…was that admiration on his face? “You’ve done your homework.”

  “Research does the body good.”

  “Why do I feel like you guys are having a completely different conversation than the one I’m hearing?” Quinn piped up, watching them both suspiciously.

  “Is it about illegal aliens?” Syd added. “Because that’s a little weird.”

  You have no idea, Spencer thought to herself, then aloud, “There’s got to be a way to sneak someone in and then just,” she shot her hands off to the side, “deport them safely back to their respective homes.”

  He moved forward in his seat, resting his arms on the table top so that he could get close enough to lower his voice in a hushed whisper.

  “If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, then you are insane. Or you just have a death wish. One, or the other, either way you aren’t thinking clearly. This isn’t some game, Spencer Perry. You don’t just pop a gold coin into the machine and get to play. There are rules.”

  “You’ve broken them before,” she said back. She’d come too far to back down now. “You’ve let people bribe you. Why not me?”

  He tensed. “I’ve told you,” he hissed, “the Greeks got many things wrong.”

  “But not that.” She’d seen it in his eyes. No, those parts of the myths hadn’t been false at all. “What makes my case any different? Why isn’t my money just as good as theirs was?”