The Irin Chronicles Box Set

by T. G. Ayer

  "You can't see it from the ground at all." Evie huffed, only slightly out of breath from the climb.

  "No. You can't see it at all unless you know what you're looking for. It's glamored as well." Evie wasn't surprised. It didn't hurt to take precautions. Besides, she didn't think Hades would appreciate unsuspecting hikers tumbling down into his world uninvited.

  As much as she herself was uninvited, she came to Hades bearing gifts. Though he may not want the Seals back, at least he'd know what to do with them.

  "Okay, so once I get through the cave, where am I going?" Evie felt her heart rate spike now that the time to descend into the bowels of the Earth was finally at hand.

  "A small river will lead you out of the cave and will take you to the Styx. The underground river beneath this cave feeds the Styx."

  "Still not coming?" Evie tried one last time, smiling at Baa'ruk. He shook his head. "So will you be in deep crap with your boss?"

  "The boss will understand once I explain what happened." He nodded, clearly trying to convince himself with his words. Evie hoped he would be okay. One stray thought ran through her mind. What if this was just a huge plot to kidnap a Nephilim? And she would have walked right into it.

  Evie shook her head and her doubts dissipated.

  "Oh, before I forget. Could you get a message to someone for me?" When Baa'ruk nodded she asked him to let Castor know where she was going and why. She hated the thought of him worrying about her. The demon chieftain seemed happy to help her and Evie smiled at him, still finding it strange that she couldn't put Barry in a neat little box called ‘Evil murderous hell-born creature'. Somewhere along the way he'd become a person to her. How strange.

  Evie blinked and brought herself to the present. She held out her hand and said, "Thanks, Barry. For everything." The demon took it, giving it a brisk, embarrassed shake.

  "Off you go now, and remember what I said. And be careful. Don't talk to the shades and don't stop to help anyone. Get to Charon and cross the river. Eat nothing, drink nothing, and stay out of the water. And be safe." Baa'ruk's spiel came to a sudden stop as if he'd run out of gas.

  "Thanks." Evie set off with a wave at the pale demon who stood at the mouth of the cave like a ghost, shimmering like a mirage. He had a strange look on his face, a mix of worry and pride, a father sending his kid off to war or something. Evie shook her head. She must have been seeing things.

  In the bright morning light, it was easy to ignore the stark truth. Evie was about to descend into the depths of the Underworld. Back home, in her room, this reality had been a mere possibility.

  Now she stood at the threshold, literally and figuratively.

  The cave mouth yawned ahead of her. The entrance, the size of the average doorway, was carved out of the rock. Closer inspection made it clear that the job was not natural. Too neat, the edges too smooth. In reality, the cave was a tunnel just high enough to accommodate Evie's height and probably wide enough to allow the robust Baa'ruk to pass.

  Evie called her angel-light instinctively. It flickered for a moment then faded, plunging the tunnel back into suffocating darkness. Evie groaned.

  No magic allowed in Hades.

  Then she grinned. Fortunately, she had come prepared. She pulled her bag from her shoulder and rummaged inside until her fingers touched the rubber casing of her flashlight. It had never been used, always there just in case.

  Now the bright light glowed ahead of her, sufficient to guide her slowly along the tunnel as it gradually widened into a cave. The walls soon grew slick with moisture and the air dense and thick. The floor of the tunnel took on a steady downward slope.

  Evie walked for a long time without any change in her surroundings. The floor still sloped down. Only her ears felt the pressure of the descent as they began to pop. After what seemed like a couple hours of walking, the track leveled off and opened into a wider cave than the one she'd entered through.

  Water trickled somewhere in the cavern and Evie looked around, seeking the source of the eerily disembodied sound. At her left, a thin stream fell over a rocky outcrop, tumbling into a small pond. From the pond, the water cut a path in the rock and snaked out of the cave along the wall. Evie followed it, her boot-heels echoing on the hard stone as she walked. The stream meandered into a dull light at the cave's entrance.

  Outside again, Evie shaded her eyes automatically. She needn't have bothered. The light was not from any kind of sun. The sky above was dark, strangely similar to the average Earth-side night sky.

  Just no stars.

  And although the sky was dark, and no moon shone its light upon Evie, a dull light glowed and lit the narrow exit of the cave. It also threw stark light onto the barren valley below.

  Chapter 15

  Evie tucked the flashlight back into her bag and picked her way carefully down the hillside. Barry's words echoed in her ears as she stumbled down the rocky embankment. The slope spilled down the rugged bank to a valley split in two by the formidable River Styx. The stream originating in the cave now ran alongside Evie, bubbling cheerfully, clearly not understanding it was making its way down to the river of the dead.

  The landscape was a curious combination of black waters, red shale, and iron-gray rocks. At the horizon, gray and murky blue hinted at an impending dawn.

  What kind of dawn would it be without the sun?

  Evie suppressed a shiver. She was alone down here and had to be super careful. One wrong move and she'd never see her friends again, let alone another real sunrise.

  The path proved precipitous and Evie slowed down to a shuffle as she made her way to the valley below. It was slow going and she paused. From her position, the panoramic view should have been breathtaking.

  But the river ran morosely by, almost black and insidious, like a slimy black viper, slithering along the valley floor. Evie would not have been surprised to learn the blood of the dead gave the river its dismal hue.

  The entire valley lay barren. No plants, no bushes. Just trees which may have died centuries ago and now stood waving bare, gray-brown arms, an air of solitude and menace so incongruous yet so appropriate.

  Desolation weighed her down, slowed her steps. An inexplicable foreboding shriveled her tongue to a sandpaper crisp. The barren land was frigid. No breeze blew, no sun warmed the rocks and stones carpeting the valley. Evie's thigh muscles clenched.

  A silent urge to turn and run.

  To leave this place. Perhaps someone else would sort this whole mess out and she could go back to her normal life. But Marcellus' words echoed in her head.

  It is done.

  Her gut twisted. Patrick was dead and Marcellus had orchestrated it. What else did he have in store for the followers of the Brotherhood? And more importantly, what would he do if he were in possession of the Seals? Marcellus would not make a good ruler of the Underworld. Barry's eloquent statement was more than enough confirmation.

  Hades must be a good guy.

  Momentum and Evie's feet pulled her down the slope until she was standing and staring at the river running thick and dark past her. The depths of the water swirled with color. Here and there splotches of brown, white, and gray slid past as fast as the river could take them. It took precious minutes for Evie to accept the strange shapes were bodies. Eyes staring, mouths screaming in silence, they floated by, arms raised forever—pleading for release from their own endless death. A pale hand broke the surface of the water with a splash. A wizened, ancient face followed the hand which grabbed onto the bank with bitter, gnarled fingers.

  "Help me! Help me please!" Those eyes glistened, and even though Evie knew he'd just risen from the water, she was convinced they were filled with tears.

  The water stank. Of putrid flesh and death. Despite the stench, the odor of decay and rot attracted not a single fly.

  Drawn to his pleas, she leaned forward. Her fingers reached out to grasp the man's hand and pull him free from the imprisoning water.

  The loud caw of a raven snapped her back t
o reality and she fell back, aware again of her surroundings. A surge of despair swept over her. How easily she'd been entranced by the man's pleas. How easily she had lost her sense of self-preservation.

  Evie steeled her mind and heart against the cries and forced herself to walk along the bank, away from the pleading man and toward a small stone outcropping pretending to be a pier. She stood silently, watching as the man floated past, pulled roughly by the strength of the current. In the distance, a tiny boat rocked on the waves. If this was the Ferryman, he certainly wasn't blessed with an impressive craft. Evie shaded her eyes against the bleak light and squinted at the floating speck. He was headed to the other shore, perhaps just now ferrying another soul to the Underworld.

  Around her, the keening of the lost souls trapped within the waters of the Styx rose and fell like a song in the distance, distorted by the wind. Pale hands broke the surface every now and then accompanied by a sad wail, which rose to a crescendo and then fell to silence. Only to begin again.

  Endless. Futile.

  Creatures desperate for release.

  Evie's heart clenched each time the sounds grew louder. She gritted her teeth and fought her every instinct, reminding herself every second that the Seals were the most important thing, here and now. Nothing else mattered.

  A voice spoke nearby. Familiar and endearing. Another trick? Another shade testing her with Patrick's voice? Evie squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to turn around.

  "It is me, my child. Do not be afraid." Patrick spoke from close behind her. She turned. Her heart knocked against her ribs. He was standing right in front of her, a benevolent smile across his face. He held out a hand and Evie reached for it. But she hesitated.

  Was she walking right into danger? This could be another trick. But her heart called to her and she placed her hand within his. His fingers felt strange, soft but in a vague way, as if she touched him in a dream.

  He was there, but not there.

  "What's happening? Why are you here so quickly? I thought the dead would only come to the river when they are buried and ready for the crossing?" Evie's heart jumped into her throat. What had Marcellus done?

  "Time moves slower in the Underworld, child. This is now the third day after my death and the second since my burial."

  "You've been here for a whole day? Why have you not crossed over yet?"

  "I am stuck on this side of the river, Evangeline." His words were soft and gentle.

  "Why? What's wrong?"

  "I do not have the payment for my passage." Patrick looked at Evie, a knowing smile on his endearing face.

  Evie stilled with shock. She'd had the silver coins in her hand when she'd been distracted by the broken glass.

  "Oh no. I'm so sorry. I was going to place them on your eyes...I'm sure I..." Evie patted her pockets and retrieved the two coins from her back pocket. She placed the coins in Patrick's open palm. "It's not too late, is it?"

  "No, no. It's not too late. I just need the coins to pay my friend Charon."

  Evie laughed. Trust Patrick to make friends with the man who ferries the dead across the Styx. "You have been busy, I see." Once the words were out, she remembered it was her own fault he was stuck on this side of the river longer than was necessary. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have forgotten the coins."

  "It doesn't matter now, child. I have the payment for my passage. And you had good reason to forget."

  "You know?"

  Patrick nodded. His spirit would have lingered for a while in the room after his demise. He would have witnessed her most intimate moments of grief and strangely, she didn't feel uncomfortable or exposed. The memory of her discovery of his body brought Evie back to the cause of his death.

  "It was Marcellus, wasn't it?" Evie asked as anger spurted out with the words.

  Patrick smiled.

  "How?"

  "Does it matter now?" He turned and stared out over the water.

  "Yes, it matters. Why do you think I'm here?" Evie touched his arm, turning his attention back to her.

  "I'm not sure.... I'm a little fuzzy on the specifics."

  "It's the Seals he's after."

  "The Seals of Hades?" Patrick's attention was focused again. He seemed to be having trouble concentrating on the conversation.

  "Why didn't you tell me what they were?" Evie regarded Patrick, her face filled with disappointment. He had not trusted her enough.

  "I didn't mean to put you in harm's way. I wanted to—" Patrick said softly before she cut him off.

  "We were in danger as soon as Marcellus began to send us on the new missions," she said, eyebrows curved in accusation.

  He laid a comforting hand on her arm. She ached for his arms to enfold her in a bear-hug like he used to do when she was little. He'd tended her scrapes and taught her the intricacies of life. This was the last time she would ever have a conversation with him, the last time he would provide much-needed advice.

  "If I'd known his intention was to find the Seals and take the throne of the Underworld, I would have done everything possible to stop him."

  "Precisely my point. You would have gone barreling in without thinking. You think with your heart, Evangeline. You must now learn to use this." Patrick tapped Evie at her temple.

  "I could have done with some guidance," Evie grumbled.

  "Tell me how you got here," Patrick said, sadness deepening the creases at the corners of his eyes as he ignored her petulance.

  "I found a Seal. So did Ling. After Marcellus raided our rooms, we suspected something was up. My next assignment, Renfru, was a high-level demon. I managed to persuade him to give me his Seal and he led me to Baa'ruk."

  "The Demon Overlord?" Patrick's eyebrows rose.

  Evie nodded. "Barry filled me in on the finer points of the twelve Seals. There was no way I could allow Marcellus to attain such a powerful position."

  While they were talking, Charon had made his way back from the other side of the river. Up close the boat was no longer just a plain wooden craft, but a vessel large enough to hold fifty men seated five across. The oars, twice as long as Charon's height, were hitched along the edge of the boat. Charon moored the craft and waited in silence.

  Patrick squeezed Evie's hand in a last farewell and moved silently to the boat. He handed a coin to Charon who twirled it between his fingers then bit down hard on the silver. Satisfied, he motioned for Patrick to climb on board.

  "Why did you give him only one coin, Patrick?" Evie had noticed Patrick held onto the second coin.

  "Charon requires payment of one coin only. The second is for the trip back. If you ever get to leave." Patrick smiled at Evie and winked. The coin glinted in his hand.

  "Wait. I need to cross too."

  Charon stared at Evie, then motioned for her to step aboard. One step into the craft and Evie knew it wouldn't work. The boat rocked, straining against her weight. Why would her weight be enough to tip over such a large vessel?

  "I will return for you." Charon's voice came out flat and unemotional.

  Evie looked at Patrick with raised eyebrows. "The dead weigh almost nothing, Evie. The living are still as solid here in Hades as they are Earth-side."

  "I guess I'll wait then." She shrugged, hiding her disappointment behind a smile.

  Charon tipped Evie a small bow and pushed off. The slow slap of the oars against the water brought tears to her eyes. Patrick faced his destination, firmly choosing his fate. Evie settled down to wait for the Ferryman.

  Now alone, she was at the mercy of the cries of the dead calling for her help. Soon, Evie's eyes filled with tears, this time none were for Patrick. Her body tensed and muscles hardened so much they were almost cramping. Something brushed Evie's shoulder and she whirled around, her heart thumping against her breastbone.

  A young boy, hair a tousled blond mat, looked up at her, resignation deepening the lines of his young face. Evie steeled herself, trying not to permit the child's earnest face to bend her will. His voice was faint and gar
bled, as if he spoke into a gusting wind which grabbed his words and flung them to the ether. He held his hand out, palms outstretched, begging her for something. She couldn't hear what he called out, what he pleaded for. She was eager to step away from those bleak gray eyes, and the outstretched hand, which she imagined would grasp at her any second.

  Her heart thudded in her chest, driving her to free herself. Behind her, white and silver wings smacked the air, snapped into place and lifted her off the ground. Magic may not work within the realms of the Underworld, but Evie's wings were not magic, they were part of her, life and soul.

  Evie flew to a large rock, safe from the shades who would traverse the waters of the Styx for eternity. Evie's grasp of classic Greek mythology was fairly good. These were the wraiths of the wicked and the cursed. The souls of those who died an unworthy death or who took their own lives. The gods were a jealous lot. They guarded the gift of life, punishing those who spurned such a precious boon by casting the souls of those unworthy to the waters of the River of the Dead.

  But there were holes in the theories. And no mention of the Seals had ever been made, either in the textbooks or by the teachers. Charon's name had been tossed to the students, but no one was told how to pay the Ferryman without money, just that those without the coin were cursed to walk the shore for a hundred years.

  Evie's satchel hung tight around her neck and torso. She ached to put it down but was too afraid of losing the precious seals. She was sure they'd now left a bunch of bruises on her hip. Patrick had paid Charon with one silver coin and kept the other with him. He'd joked about needing it for his return journey. Evie had first thought he wasn't making sense but now it was clear. A journey into Hades means two crossings, one into Hades, and one to return home provided you entered alive.

  Two crossings meant two coins. Evie ripped the satchel open and felt for the three smaller disks she'd tucked into a small side pocket. She spread them on her lap and studied each one. There were one set and a single coin. The pair bore the engravings of a boat, oars on its face, and coins on the flip side. How had she not made the connection?