Extending his left hand to me, Charon spoke, sending a chill through my frame. ��Obol.”
Without thinking, I felt myself reaching down to my jeans pocket, where I had stuffed the gold coins I had received from the satyrs. As I pulled one out, I finally caught myself before I could lay it in the ferryman’s hand. My thoughts swirled frantically in my head as I fought the compulsion to heed his bidding. I wasn’t trying to cross over to the land of judgment. I just wanted to travel the rivers, I reminded myself.
“I have your obol,” I replied. My voice was shaky and soft, as I didn’t want to disturb the overwhelming silence of the underworld with my presence. “But I have an additional request of you.”
Charon’s skeletal fingers curled into his palm and he pulled back his hand. He seemed to hesitate before pulling back the deep hood of his cloak to reveal a wrinkled old face with a long reddish-brown beard. His blue-gray eyes, partially hidden beneath a pair of wild, bushy eyebrows that wiggled like poisonous caterpillars on his brow, locked on my face. While not quite the fearsome figure I had expected, he still reminded me of the slightly mad homeless man who sometimes slept in the alley beside the tattoo parlor.
“You think you can bargain with Charon?” he asked, his fuzzy brows meeting above his large nose.
“Yes.” I forced a smile on my lips as I met his stare. I held up one gold coin so that it flashed in the dim light from his lantern, causing his eyes to widen. It was tradition that the obol he was offered was typically the least valued coin of the realm. The ferryman didn’t often feel the weight and slickness of a gold coin. “I don’t seek passage to judgment. I want water from all five of the rivers and then to be returned to this shore.”
“No one travels all the rivers of the underworld.”
“No one but you.”
He frowned at me, but continued. “Passage to the land beyond and back requires two coins. Standard fee. Ask the gods.”
I nodded and reached into my pocket, withdrawing a second coin to show him. “I have the fee for passage back and forth, but I need all five rivers.”
“No.”
I tightly clasped the gold coins in my fist as I stared critically at the ferryman. I had suspected that I might have some problems getting him to acquiesce to my demand, but I had been hoping to avoid the only route I had available to me. It was dirty and despicable, but at the same time, I knew that if our roles were reversed, my opponent would not hesitate to do the same.
“How long have you been the ferryman for the dead?” I asked.
“Since the start of time.”
“I imagine that you are looking forward to your own time of rest and peace in the afterlife following a long existence of servitude.”
The frown on Charon’s face deepened as he weighed my words. “I will not rest until the living fill the halls of the dead. Only then will I put aside my pole and rest.”
“Could you not rest if someone came along to take your place?”
“The person has to volunteer to take my spot. None has ever agreed to such a thing.” Charon paused, stroking his beard as he gazed at me. “Will you take my place as ferryman if I take you to all the rivers?”
I waved one hand at him and smiled. “I’m not quite so desperate, but I do have something else to offer.” Reaching inside my shirt, I pulled out the small glass container that hung around my neck. Inside the glass swirled the piece of Simon’s soul that I had torn off. Lifting it over my head, I held it out to Charon by the leather thong. “You may not need a willing replacement if you hold a piece of their soul.”
Charon stood mesmerized by the fragment of soul that twisted in the glass container dangling from my hand. Before him was the promise of relief from his long existence of service to the dead. Of course, if I managed to return to the world above without Simon’s soul, it was unlikely that I would ever be able to barter for my own fragment of soul. On the other hand, it was highly unlikely that Simon would ever willingly agree to a trade in the first place. I was better off using his soul in trade with Charon than attempting to trade for my own.
“You will give me two coins and the soul fragment if I take you to each of the rivers?” Charon asked slowly.
“Take me to each river and bring me back to this exact spot,” I replied, lowering my hand back to my side.
“Agreed,” Charon said eagerly, extending his hand to me again.
“I will give you one coin now for the start of the trip, and I will give you the soul fragment and other coin when we are safely back here.”
A low growl slipped from Charon for a second as he glared at me. His extended hand balled into a tight fist and trembled slightly, as he was anxious to have his hold on his replacement. While Charon had no power to end Simon’s life early and drag him down to the ferry, he would at least have the promise of a replacement when Simon died on his own.
“Very well,” he grumbled.
Suppressing a sigh of relief, I handed over one of the gold coins as I climbed into the boat and sat on the single plank that ran from one side of the wooden boat to the other. Behind me, I could hear Charon shuffling with his robes before he pushed off the bank with his pole.
With surprising speed, Charon directed us across the Styx, weaving around sandbars and fingers of land stretched out into the water before we reached a new tributary. Where the Styx was like polished black glass, the next river was crystal clear, making it easy to see the various bodies of the dead that had settled near the bottom of the river.
“This is Lethe,” Charon announced as we settled in the middle of the mouth of the river. “Feel free to take a drink. It’s quite cool and refreshing. I’m told that it’s the best-tasting water in the above or below worlds.”
“I’m sure it is,” I muttered under my breath as I knelt on the bottom of the boat while pulling another glass jar out of my pocket. Once again, I was careful not to touch the water as I filled the container. Lethe would wipe the memory of any who drank from it, a situation I was sure that Charon would be happy to take advantage of.
After I had the water from Lethe, we quickly moved on. Cocytus, with its deep blue waters, looked to be more of a lagoon found off an island in the Caribbean. The river of lamentation shifted and lapped against distant shores, sounding like the weeping of angels. But then, Cocytus was said to be made of the tears of angels gathered from all their centuries of crying for man. I wasn’t sure that I believed the old tale, but I didn’t take any unnecessary chances for fear of being swept away by an overwhelming hopelessness that could deter me from my endeavor to save myself, Trixie, and Bronx.
Phlegethon nearly proved to be the end of me as I jerked back in the boat when we drew close to the river. The tiny wooden boat swayed at my movement, but it didn’t burst into flames as I had initially feared. The river of fire was red and yellow, as if it were made of flowing magma, but still had the same consistency as water. Intense heat radiated off it, causing sweat to bead and slip down the sides of my face. For the first time since entering the underworld, I wasn’t cold and the darkness had been beaten back by the light that shone from the river. I nearly dropped the glass jar into the river, cursing the stinging heat that bit at my fingertips. When it was full, I placed it on the floor of the boat and replaced the cork stopper, waiting to see if the liquid would eat through the glass, but it held. Even the glass remained cool to the touch despite the fact that it looked like I had placed liquid fire in a jar.
Our final stop didn’t appear to be a river at all, but a swamp. Acheron was the river of pain, and it reminded me of something I had read in Dante’s Inferno. The boat frequently scraped bottom as we entered the swamp, the river remaining shallow, broken up by spits of land. The shore had moved closer, revealing black trees with twisted bare limbs. I stared out across the land and watched shadows shifting in and out from behind trees as we passed by.
“Are . . . are those people out there?” I asked as we paused in the center of the swamp. I hesitated to lean over the si
de of the boat with the glass jar, but held it tightly in one hand as I scoured the shoreline.
“The dead,” Charon confirmed.
Glancing over my shoulder, I found him leaning against his pole as he gazed out at the nearby shore. “What are the dead doing here? This is Acheron, right? I thought the dead were to wait on the shore where I met you.”
“That is where the dead start. Those who do not have my obol are forced to swim to the banks of the Acheron and wait for the end of days. It is only when the world is rent open and the living are judged that these poor souls will be able to freely move on to the land beyond.”
“And if they don’t swim to Acheron?” I asked as I leaned over the edge of the boat with the glass jar in one hand.
“Then they never move on to the next world. Most resist at first, but after centuries of waiting they eventually forget why they were resisting and begin the swim.”
Sitting back in the boat, I put a stopper in the full jar and placed it in the large pocket of my trench coat. It was a good warning for the future that I faced. I should always carry some change in my pockets in the event that something bad happened to me while I was out and about. Of course, considering that I usually slept in the nude, that didn’t make me feel any better about the prospect of potentially dying in my sleep. Shorts with a single coin in my pocket were starting to sound like a good alternative to sleeping commando.
As Charon turned the boat back toward the way we had come, a pale light caught my eye as it poked out from behind a massive tree in the distance. It reminded me of the Saturday morning cartoon version of a ghost, glowing and undefined. I twisted around in my seat and leaned over to peer around Charon, but the eerie glow was gone. Something that wasn’t a member of the dead was watching me. I had stayed too long and now I was starting to attract the kind of attention that I had been hoping to avoid.
We passed easily through the other four rivers and glided soundlessly onto the Styx again. I needed to get out of here, and fast. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how much time had passed since I had died. Trixie had to revive me soon if I was going to escape this world unscathed.
As I reached the shore, I knew that I had run out of time. Someone was waiting for me.
Chapter 25
I sat in the boat, reluctant to move as I saw in the distance the same ethereal glow I had noticed in the Acheron swamp. Someone or something had come for me.
Charon tapped on my shoulder with his bony finger, causing me to jerk around and look at him. He extended his hand toward me and I could see a faint smile through the shadows of his hood. “This is where you wanted to be, correct? This was the bargain?” Charon demanded when I still hadn’t moved.
“Yeah, this is the place,” I murmured, pushing to my feet. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out another gold coin and laid it in his hand. While two fingers closed around the coin, two other fingers wagged at me, beckoning for the soul fragment I had promised. Frowning, I lifted the leather thong from around my neck and placed it in his hand as well.
I didn’t feel good about this decision, and the argument that Simon would do the same to me if he was in my position wasn’t sitting well either. A promise was a promise, though, and my friends’ safety and happiness were worth my own damnation if it came to that. Hell, I figured I was already damned for the mess I had created with Tera; what was one more mark against me at this point?
Holding on to the bow of the boat, I carefully disembarked and stood on the edge of the bank, gazing up the hill at the faint glowing figure that seemed to be waiting for me. In my pockets were only a handful of gold coins and the water from the five rivers of the underworld. Not exactly great bargaining chips for whatever I still faced, and Charon told me as much when he wished me “Good luck” with a rusty chuckle as he pushed his boat away from the shore.
Glancing one last time at the sight of Charon’s boat receding into the darkness, I mounted the slope toward the figure waiting for me. The glow had faded to nothing, but the creature still loomed. As I drew close, I could make out a woman, with long dark hair and gray skin molded to a slim body, waiting for me. Her stormy gray eyes burned through me, while a smile slashed across her face like an open wound. My skin crawled to look at her, and I could feel something skittering around her in the darkness. I couldn’t see the creatures, but I had a vague sense of their shape and number in the back of my mind, as if they were either shrouded in magic or existed on some other plain of reality that I wasn’t fully privy to here in the underworld. Energy shifted and flowed in the air, magic that I had never come into contact with and didn’t want to know.
“I take it that you’ve been waiting for me,” I said in a neutral voice as I held back, several feet from her. In my mind, I desperately prayed that Trixie would soon draw me away from this world. Watching this woman, I feared for what was left of my soul.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Gage,” she purred. She closed the distance between us by several feet. I watched her legs take the necessary steps forward, but she moved as if she slithered across the ground like a snake.
My gaze jumped from her legs to her face as the muscles in my chest clenched around my lungs and heart in fear. There was only one female who walked the underworld, neither living nor dead, but trapped, supposedly tied to the one who had tempted her. Lilith.
Backpedaling several feet to reestablish the distance between us, my mind scoured the hours of mythology I had ingested during my studies with the warlocks. Was this the Lilith of Greek mythology? The vampiric, child-killing Lamia with second sight? Or was this the Jewish first wife of Adam who was tempted and seduced by Samael, only to give birth to Cain? Or maybe she was the more obscure incarnation of Istar and Asherah, who were born of the same power that gave birth to God? So many conflicting texts, but the same word was repeated again: evil.
“I can’t help you, Lilith,” I said in a steady voice, though I didn’t feel it. I wanted out of here now. I could think of a dozen other dark creatures I’d rather be faced with than this woman, goddess, demon, known for both seduction and murder.
“I know you can. Anyone who can get in and out of here can free me as well,” she continued in a deep sultry voice that seemed to curl around my thoughts like a smoky drug. “I’ve grown tired of my cage and I long to be back among the humans. Help me, Gage, and I can help you in countless ways. Your enemies would cower at the mere mention of your name.”
“No thank you,” I breathed, forcing myself to remain in one spot as she once again inched closer to me. “I would prefer to take care of things on my own. But I appreciate your offer.”
Her smile dimmed a couple of notches and lines of tension appeared around the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you had a choice in the matter.”
“I can’t help you.”
“You can give me permanent freedom. I want out.”
“No.”
A sharp jerk broke my gaze from Lilith. It felt as if a string had been tied to the inside of my belly button and had been pulled out my back. Pressing my hand to my stomach, I briefly wondered if Lilith had caused it, but pushed aside the thought when she grabbed my other arm at the wrist while her smile completely disappeared.
“I will be the one to free you from this cage!” she snarled.
Trixie was trying to revive me, but I doubted she would succeed if Lilith was holding on to me. And nothing in this existence would allow me to take Lilith’s offer to send me back. Such a decision would put me in her debt and at her disposal in the world of the living. I jerked on my arm, trying to break her hold, but it didn’t budge.
“I won’t help you.”
“Then you will not be free of this place.”
Closing my eyes against her distracting naked body and the fear that was rising in my chest, I searched my memory for all that I had been forced to learn about her. There was a bit of folklore about the prophet Elijah getting Lilith to tell him her various names, thus freeing him of her. I wa
sn’t sure if repeating them back would free me in mythical Rumpelstiltskin style, but it was the only thing I could think of in my desperation.
“Abeko, Abito, Amizo . . .”
“Do you think such old magic can stop me?” she demanded, her voice cutting like shards through my brain.
Ignoring her comment as her fingers tightened on my wrist, biting into the flesh, I pushed on. “Batna, Eilo, Ita, Izorpo . . .”
Her grip started to slip as the tugging on my stomach increased. It felt like it was working as she grew steadily angrier. I prayed she wouldn’t destroy me since she saw me as a source of escape, but at the same time I wasn’t sure that she would let me escape if she believed I wouldn’t help her. My wrist slipped out of her grip, but she caught the tips of my fingers. My eyes flicked over and met her fiery stare, shaking me to my core. My breath exploded from my chest as fear clenched in my gut. I was little more than a soul here and she was digging in her claws.
“Escape me now, but you will not be free of me. I’ve seen your future. I can still reach you, steal away your most precious love. I will come for you if you don’t help me.”
“K-Kali . . . Kea . . . K-K-Kokos,” I continued in a fear-choked voice. My fingers slipped from her grasp and darkness consumed me while I was followed by her earth-shattering scream.
Burning in my chest caused me to suck in air again, which only resulted in a harsh coughing fit. I rose for a second and then immediately fell back again, hitting the back of my head on something. My throat was raw, my chest burned, and my temples throbbed with pain, but I welcomed it all as I knew that I was alive once again. Something wet hit my cheeks and I opened my eyes to see a bleary image of Trixie leaning over me with tears streaking down her pale cheeks. Her gentle hands smoothed my hair as she choked on a stifled sob of relief.
Angel's Ink Page 24
