In one corner of the living room, not far underneath that looming moose head, were several Stygians congregated around two laptops. Azim settled back in his spot in front of one of the computer screens like the last time we were here. Three females and two male Stygians focused intently on the screens, each barking out suggestions or commands.
“What’s going on?” I asked Clover because it seemed rude to interrupt whatever they were doing.
“As I’m sure you’ve seen,” she said, hooking her arm through mine, “those Trivials are causing trouble. Once they put out that broadcast, I knew it was a matter of time before you two showed up. One of these days, Ollie, we’re going to meet under better circumstances.”
“We think the Trivials took out Marin, too,” Azim added with his eyes fixed on the computer screen.
Brent and I gave each other looks as if to say “Do you want to tell them?” or “Should I tell them?” Although I had it in me to tell the truth, Brent was the first to sputter out, “Ollie killed him a month ago.”
Clover’s eyes widened. Azim turned his gaze up from the screen to meet mine. The group huddled around the laptops stopped barking commands to look over their screens at us.
This was news, but was it good news to them?
“Yep,” I said, with a forced smile. “It’s a complicated story but, yeah, I melted him. He’s gone.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” grumbled one male Stygian, his hands on the keyboard.
“Because melting the damn Head Reaper causes a shit-ton of fallout, friend. But now we can return to helping y’all save Styx. Is that all right?” Brent’s tone was clear and, thankfully, everyone, most importantly the man, got it.
I could have defended myself. Sometimes it’s refreshing to have someone at your side that’ll knock some heads in order to clear your name.
“So,” Clover started, “so, Head Reaper Marin is really…dead?”
“That explains why the Watchmen haven’t been harassing us,” said another Stygian, this one a female sitting next to Azim.
“And that’s why his videos are off,” said Azim. “And this group called Trivials made that broadcast. Here I thought they hijacked your Interceptor, Ollie. But when I checked on it, that wasn’t the case.”
“But if not—” I started.
“—then they are already in Lethe,” he finished.
“Which is much, much worse because it means they already have control of it.” Brent put the final touches on our revelation.
I sensed there were more questions coming. As a few of our friends from Kentucky filtered into the cabin, it was probably time to break the news if Clover and Azim didn’t already know. Puck and Manny sidled underneath the moose head. Each man flashed it a crooked smile. The floors creaked under the weight as other bodies shuffled into the cabin.
“Styx isn’t out of the woods just yet,” I said, and the place fell quiet.
“What do you mean? Marin is dead. Isn’t this time to celebrate our freedom after we do away with the Trivials?” asked someone.
“Not exactly.” I unhooked my arm from Clover’s and stuffed both hands in the kangaroo pocket of my fresh Sisters Café sweatshirt. “Marin had his team annihilating Trivials for a few years.”
“What exactly are Trivials? Up until the past few weeks we had never heard of them,” Clover asked, her face contorted.
“I’ve heard of them,” Azim said. “Though, I’ve never seen them. They’re soulless. They’re bad Stygians from what I know.”
“Then Marin was right to get rid of them,” said someone.
“No, you see, it doesn’t work like that. You don’t eliminate an entire group of people because some are bad. I met some Trivials who defended Scriveners and Reapers. But some have gone rogue. Some are pissed and want retribution.” I gripped Brent’s hand tightly as I spoke. “They are currently in Lethe, and we need to stop them from doing more harm. But we don’t need to kill any more Stygians.”
“All protection over Lethe is gone,” Brent said. “Anyone can get in and start running the show. Now that they’re there, we need to stop them.”
The weight of tension in the room bore down on my shoulders. I knew that if I confessed the truth—that Marin was a Scrivener and not a Reaper—it was very possible the news would divide the rebels. How could a Scrivener kill his own? How could a Scrivener hide his identity for so long? What of the souls? What happened to the souls of those they loved? All of those questions would erupt from my allies and rightfully so.
I was frightened of telling the truth, of being the one to confess to my kin’s sins. But once everyone entered Lethe, because we would have to sooner than later, they would see and feel the souls begging for relief. They would have to help us cross them over. And they would be the ones to help us appoint a new Head Reaper. There needed to be transparency. Styx had no more room for secrets.
“Look, everyone, we’re going to be fine. Styx is going to recover with our help. But we need to move fast. Azim, do you know if the Interceptor is still working, and can we use it?” I asked.
Pride made him smile. “It is mounted on Le Château Frontenac. We can access it through a signal. I’ve already tested it.”
“Then it’s time we let Styx know the truth.”
Chapter Twenty
“She is back! The Harbinger brings news to Styx.”
—HermesHarbinger.com
“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Brent said as we huddled outside on the cabin’s patio. My hair was still wet from my shower. I had my cell phone to my ear, trying over and over to call Papa or Delia. This was not the best place to discuss our future or what we should or shouldn’t do, but every other room in the cabin was occupied.
“I can’t get a hold of them,” I said, punching the digits on the smartphone screen. “Delia said the Trivials might be tapping into our phones.”
“Ollie…” He put his hands on my shoulders.
“It’s not like Delia not to answer. And Papa, too. I would’ve thought by now that they would’ve called or something. I’m worried.”
“Ollie, listen to me.” He squeezed my shoulders tighter. “I don’t think you should go on television and tell the world the truth.”
My attention snapped from the phone to Brent’s blue eyes. “Styx deserves the truth.”
“I know, darlin’. But if Styx knows the entire truth, it might cause more chasms than bridges.” Snowflakes began trickling from the sky. A couple landed in Brent’s beard before melting.
I pulled the hood around my head and tucked my dreadlocks inside for protection.
“How then will we explain all the souls that need to still be crossed over, Brent? These Stygians here probably know someone who has been executed. If they find out their loved ones never actually crossed over, they’ll go nuts.”
“Or they’ll be relieved,” he said with one eyebrow cocked.
“What?”
His smile turned a little crooked, like he just realized something great. “Everyone who ever crossed Marin or committed a high-level Offense supposedly went to Erebus, right?”
Erebus was our hell. It was where Marin sent all of his enemies and traitors and rebels. It was where Mama, Clover’s beloved sister, and surely hundreds of others were. The place was worse than any other punishment, yet many went there in the name of freedom and goodness.
My heart did a somersault. “Does that mean we can still save those who weren’t crossed over?”
He nodded, slowly, and without certainty. “That might be the case. We can get them to Elysia. We can do that, but I think we have to stay mum on Marin’s shortcomings.”
Sometimes people just didn’t need to know the whole truth. Just like a parent who kept some of the finer, grittier details of life from their children for the sake of their innocence, Brent’s stance made sense. He was cautious. He didn’t want to open this can of worms and shove it down Styx’s throat.
But I did. Because if I knew one thing, i
t was that the truth, no matter how scathing, was the right of every single soul in Styx. It was up to them to decide how to handle the news and not for a small few to keep secrets hidden from them for fear of what could happen.
“Then if what you say is true, this is more of a reason to tell them all about Marin,” I said.
Brent set his jaw. He wanted to argue. I could see words of protest struggling to form on his lips. “Then what happens after your announcement?”
“We go back to Lethe and do what we always do.” I placed my phone in his hand. “I’ve got to get ready for this announcement. Please try calling Papa and Delia. I need to know they’re okay.”
“You ready?” Azim said with his head poked out the cabin door. “Because the Interceptor is.”
It was strange seeing so many rebels inside and outside the cabin. The sight gave me hope. After this long journey, more than anything I wanted to see that everything was okay, my friends safe, and then I’d finally relax for good. Going at it with a handful of allies was a gift, but it had its shortcomings. One can only do so much with a few good friends. But trying to save the world with a few thousand was far more uplifting.
There was a mission now—share the news with Styx and, through my words, unite them. Marin had done amazing work dividing and destroying our morale. He had done it for so long that to us, it was normal. Now, it was my turn.
For this broadcast, the second in my life and my last if I had any say, I would give it from outside the cabin where hordes of fellow rebels congregated around me. I intended to show those in Styx who were in remote places or felt alone that we could remain unified even from afar, that there were those who could help here in Quebec and those who could help from across the globe.
I stood with the Isle of Orleans as my backdrop and the thousands of rebels standing united behind me, side by side. I wore my red sweatshirt in honor of Violet Magby, Clover’s sister who died for the rebel’s cause, a soul who would go onto Elysia with all the rest, if I had any say.
This time, Clover held the camera—a smartphone—in the palm of her hand. This time, I didn’t hold Brent’s discarded flannel in my hands while he was held captive in Lethe being interrogated by Head Reaper Marin. This time, I held nothing, and I felt nothing. I simply breathed and watched for Azim to give me the sign that I was on live Stygian television.
Off to one side, Brent held my cell phone to his ear. He never spoke into it as if someone had answered his calls. He would lower the phone after a minute, tap the screen, and then put it back to his ear. He did this over and over. My heart grew heavier as the cycle continued.
Delia and Papa were still not answering their phones.
They, along with Nicodemus, were in trouble. I felt it in my bones.
“On three, two, one…” Azim drew me back to the phone in Clover’s hands.
For a moment, I stared into the little camera, wondering how in the world I had come back around to this. I must’ve looked a little off standing there, staring blankly.
What did I mean to say, again?
“Ollie,” Azim whispered. “You’re live.”
I shook my head to loosen the anxiety. “Oh. Uh. Greetings, Styx!”
You sound like an ass, my inner voice hissed. Sound like a leader, for Hades’ sake!
One more time, I shook my head, smiled because I remembered Clover mentioning the warmth in my smile, and said with a little more confidence, “Remember me? I’m Olivia Iris Dormier. I am a Master Scrivener. And I have some news that you’ll want to hear.”
Clover gave me a wink from behind the camera. There was much to that wink—most specifically that she was cheering me on, to say exactly what needed to be said.
“There has been speculation that Marin’s recent broadcasts were pre-taped. I can confirm that is the truth. I know this because a month ago, I was in Lethe where I went face-to-face with the Head Reaper. Clearly, I survived. However, he did not. Marin is dead.”
I paused as the voices of rebels around me spread this news across the hundreds upon hundreds standing in the field behind me. There was no reason to turn around and look at their faces. The sounds of shock, awe, and quiet cheers were enough to tell me that this news was good news. I noticed a few grumblings of disbelief. Is she lying? Where’s the proof?
“I have no body or video to show you to prove that he’s gone. All I ask is that you trust me when I say that I was the one who destroyed Marin.” I cleared my throat and then waited until the voices behind me settled into a low hum. “Before he died, I learned a truth that rattled me to my core. This truth hurts me. It will hurt many of you. But you deserve the truth; you deserve to know.”
From the corner of my eye, I spotted Brent staring at me. I felt his anxiety.
“Marin was not who he said he was,” I quickly uttered before I could keep it a secret forever. “Marin was not a Reaper or an Eidolon or even a Watchmen. He was a Master Scrivener like me. It was Marin who ordered the Scrivener massacre, the deaths of his own kin, to protect his secret for fear of being deposed.”
The buzzing of voices grew louder.
“Marin only wanted power, not to properly lead Styx. He wanted to know that he sat on the top of the pyramid and he wielded his power to the deadliest level. Some of you might wonder how he crossed over all those souls and, though he crossed a few with the help of Eidolon Chadwick Brooks, he did not cross over all of them. This means that if any of your beloved were executed under Marin’s rule, you can find some solace in that they are not in Erebus, but lost. They can and will be sent to Elysia, but only with your help. It would be easy for Styx to simply replace Marin with a proper Grim Reaper, but there’s more to this story.”
The faces of my allies were mixed. Clover was hopeful. Azim, Puck, and Manny grew tense. Brent wore no expression that I could read. Others around me were hinged on what I was about to say.
“Trivials, soulless Stygians, have taken over Marin’s former stronghold and the capital of Styx. They’re threatening to wreak havoc on Styx for the crimes Marin set upon them during his tenure. They’re angry and rightfully so. As a Scrivener, I was and am angry for what Marin allowed during the Purge. I am also angry to know that he, a Scrivener like me, would carry out our demise out of fear of losing his ultimate control. Trivials are Stygians. They deserve to have their voices heard. Justice will prevail for everyone. But hurting innocent Stygians will not. And those Trivials in Lethe who want to continue the bloodshed and keep Styx broken will not win.
“I want to restore Styx to the way it was before Marin rose to power. I want to put new leadership in place that wants goodness, not wickedness. That Stygian or Stygians will not include me. It will be qualified Reapers, ones whom all of Styx will vote into office. So, if you’re near Quebec or wish to come to help me stand against the Trivials, then meet me at the Fontaine de Tourny at sunset tomorrow. I will bring my friends, and united, this will be our chance for justice, to restore Styx to what it once was, with a legitimate leader capable of his or her job. Let us make this a peaceful pursuit. And if not peaceful, let us not forget that our real enemy is gone. What we have to fight now is the hate and fear that he left behind.”
Clover nodded before she lowered the cell phone. My broadcast—my last—was over. Now, we would ride to the Fontaine de Tourny in just under twenty-four hours and, hopefully, find other Stygians willing to help us put Styx back together again.
“We have a day to get everything in order,” I said to Azim and Clover. “The Trivials will be ready for us.”
I expected to be bombarded with questions. I would have to wade through a sea of rebels closing in around me with comments, concerns, and possibly threats. The energy around me was electric, and one spark would ignite chaos. As much as I wanted to quell everyone’s concerns and assure them goodness would prevail, I was also afraid of getting trampled.
Brent saw the concern in my eyes before I had to ask him for help. Within seconds, I was swept into a mist of icy darkness just as I
remembered from my first days with Brent. Half-death. I would never forget this for as long as I lived. Pain rippled through my body, starting first at my core. Before I wanted to scream and before the agony became too much to bear, the darkness of his miasma peeled back like velvet stage curtains.
Before us was the familiar smooth, amber wood marquee of Le Nektar Coffee Shop—the place where Brent and I first met. The outside looked exactly the same as I remembered. Trendy but low-key. We stood across the street from the place with two rows of parked cars and light traffic between the shop and us.
In a tiny sliver between being whisked away from the impromptu press conference to standing in front of the coffee shop I had called home for so many years, I felt as if reality fell away or that I had been thrust back in time to a less stressful point in my life. I was back to living out my days as a loyal but angry servant of Head Reaper Marin, drinking coffee made by my best human friend, Eve. My heart jumped inside my chest at the thought of seeing Eve again. The mess that she had been unwittingly pulled into was gone. I was just a Scrivener. Not a Master. I hadn’t lost Mama or Eve. I hadn’t met Delia or Nicodemus or Errol yet.
I hadn’t met Brent.
When I took a step toward the coffee shop, a hand clutched my elbow. I snapped to attention when a car zipped across my path, blaring its horn. The fantasy faded. The hand on my elbow was Brent’s.
He was here. He was familiar.
“You need to look both ways, darlin’,” he said. “Don’t make my job too easy now.”
Those ocean blue eyes lowered my anxiety. I was safe with him—at least, until I ended up with another Deathmark. I could handle myself just fine without him. “I usually do look both ways.”
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