‘Who yes, and what,’ he frowned. ‘Some of your elders are powerful enough to withstand the darkness and power of the Underworld, but you are not. You are too young, too unskilled, you have yet to come fully into your gifts. You should not be here; you must leave at once or you will die.’
Sam gritted his teeth, pulling himself up by sheer force of will and holding himself upright.
‘I will stay as long as they are in danger.’
Hades stroked his chin thoughtfully, his dark eyes glittering with interest as he studied Sam.
‘You are not at all like the others of your kind are you?’ he muttered turning towards the other two. ‘You do keep some interesting company Olivia.’
‘Hades,’ Olivia replied softly, ‘stop poking at him, he stays with us. We will care for him.’
‘A noble sentiment,’ he turned to Olivia, ‘but one that will not serve you or him well. He is in no condition to go into battle.’
‘Battle?’ she frowned, ‘who said anything about a battle?’
‘What did you think was going to happen?’ he shook his head, ‘that Nathaniel and I would meet and exchange harsh words?’
‘Well no, but…’
‘Olivia, he has been using a small army of demons to break the Crossroads. He and your mother are not alone…and neither am I.’
Olivia turned and looked over his shoulder and behind him stood a tall Greek warrior, grim and formidable, wearing a short kilt and closely fitted armor. He had a large round shield strapped to his left arm and a long spear in his right. He also carried a short sword, which she recognized as a Xiphos, which was sheathed at his hip. He looked every inch an imposing Greek warrior with one exception, she could see the wall behind him straight through his body. He was as thin and insubstantial as mist.
‘He’s a shade?’
‘Don’t let that concern you,’ Hades smiled as another warrior materialized next to him and then another and another. ‘They are lethal, as many of my enemies have already discovered. Although,’ he mused thoughtfully, ‘I’d have liked to have had a few dozen Spartans.’
‘Why can’t you?’ she asked curiously.
‘Politics,’ he replied cryptically.
She wisely chose not to question him any further.
When she looked behind him once more, there was a small army of ghostly warriors staring back at her.
‘Well Sam?’ Hades’ gaze locked on him, ‘what is it going to be? I can send you back to the mortal world, it will take you a while to recover your strength but you will eventually. If you remain here much longer I cannot guarantee you will survive.’
‘I stand with my friends,’ he replied coolly. ‘I may not be at my full strength but I can still fight.’
Hades stared at him thoughtfully. ‘Loyalty…’ he mused, ‘is something I value very highly.’
Seeming to come to a decision he pressed his hand to Sam’s chest, causing him to gasp in shock. Sam felt fire roar through his veins, burning him alive. His face broke out in a sweat and his heart beat uncontrollably against the vicious wave of pain building inside him. He let out a roar of pain as the wave crested and then Hades released him. Leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees he sucked in a deep shaky breath, but when he straightened he instantly felt different. The weakness which had been spreading through his body like a plague was gone, he felt strong and charged with a strange kind of energy.
‘It will not last,’ Hades answered his puzzled expression.
‘What did you do to me?’
‘I gave you what you needed,’ he replied calmly. ‘As I said it will not last, but it will at least keep you alive long enough to get out of the Underworld, that is…’ he smiled in amusement, ‘unless the demons kill you first.’
‘I’d like to see them try,’ he replied coolly.
‘You might need this.’ He held out his hand and balanced across his palm was a black bladed sword.
Sam reached out slowly, taking the blade from Hades’ hand. His fist wrapped around the hilt and he sliced and cut through the air experimentally a few times. It was so light, perfectly weighted and counterbalanced. It was an incredible weapon.
‘Thank you,’ he replied quietly, puzzled at the enigmatic God standing before him. Everything he knew about Hades, everything he’d ever been taught about the God of the Underworld, didn’t match up to all he’d witnessed since being in the Underworld and it was…unsettling to say the least.
‘Theo,’ Hades turned towards him, ‘I understand you have a very unusual weapon. May I see it?’
Theo narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, regarding the God in front of him. Nodding his head in consent after a moment, he pulled back his sleeve. Hades leaned forward and grasped Theo’s arm in his long elegant fingers, turning it over so he could examine the vines of blue, black and silver etched deeply into his flesh.
‘Fascinating’ he murmured, his eyes widening slightly as the tentacles of metal began to soften and slide down his arm to pool in the palm of his hand. Theo flexed his fingers and they gripped around the hilt of his blade. Hades studied the large hunting knife with its silver vines and tiny leaves around the hilt, and its blue black blade which glowed with an ancient language, which Theo was certain Hades was able to read.
‘The blade itself is imbued with two of the ancient fires,’ he looked over to Olivia. ‘You were responsible for this?’
‘I didn’t exactly do it on purpose,’ she muttered.
‘You never do Olivia,’ he rolled his eyes and returned to his thorough scrutiny of the extraordinary blade.
‘Well,’ Hades spoke after a moment, ‘as impressive as that is Theodore, it just won’t do. These are demons, and you certainly won’t do much damage with that tiny little blade.’
His fist gripped Theo’s so they were both holding the weapon tightly. Theo watched in interest as the blade rippled and began to grow, elongating into a slightly curved and elegant sword. When Hades finally released his hand and stepped back Theo turned the blade over in his hand, studying it closely. It still looked exactly as it had before, retaining all the same characteristics and markings, only now it was a sword instead of a knife.
Satisfied Hades stepped to the entrance of the long tunnel. ‘Well,’ he smiled coldly, ‘I do believe it’s time to kill some demons.’
Chapter 25.
Danae blinked in surprise as her phone started ringing. Grabbing it up before it had a chance to ring off, she hit connect.
‘Charles! Finally,’ she breathed in frustration. ‘Would it kill you to return a fucking phone call?’
‘What do you think I’m doing?’ he returned dryly.
‘Really? After two days of trying to reach you and my idiot brother, you finally feel like returning my calls?’
‘Danae,’ he replied irritably, ‘I really don’t have time for this.’
‘Everyone in Mercy is fine by the way,’ she told him sarcastically, ‘and the Soul Collector is gone.’
‘Good…’ Charles murmured, ‘that’s good…’
‘Are you even listening to me?’
‘Danae, now is not a good time. I have someplace I have to be.’
‘Then why did you bother calling me at all?’
‘To tell you to stop calling. I’ll speak to you when I’m done.’
‘Charles, don’t you dare hang up on me,’ she warned.
The line went silent for a moment.
‘What do you want Danae?’
‘I saw Olivia.’
‘WHAT?’ Charles asked in confusion, ‘what the hell are you talking about?’
‘Olivia came back.’
‘What? How? Why didn’t you tell me before?’ he demanded.
‘What like two days ago maybe?’ she deadpanned, ‘oh maybe that’s because you weren’t answering my fucking calls.’
‘Stop swearing at me,’ he snapped irritably.
‘I can’t help it,’ she snapped right back. ‘I’m roya
lly pissed off right now.’
‘Just tell me what happened, where is Olivia now?’
‘She’s not here, she went back to the Otherworld.’
‘Why?’
‘Just shut up and listen’ she sighed, reaching deep down inside for her patience. ‘The Soul Collector was at the old Bachelier place out in the North West woods by the lake. He was using Clea’s spirit bottles to trap the souls he was harvesting. Roni and I showed up just as Theo and Olivia were taking care of business. They grabbed the Collector and pulled him back through the gateway they’d come through and all of them disappeared.’
‘So she’s still alive?’ he breathed in relief. ‘If she reappeared in our world her mortal body must be undamaged.’
‘She looked just fine to me.’
‘So there’s still a chance to pull her back to this side permanently.’
‘That’s just it Charles,’ Danae shook her head, ‘whatever it is you’re planning, I don’t think you should go through with it.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I don’t think Olivia and Theo were dragged back through the gateway. I think they chose to go back through, which means they’re dealing with something we know nothing about. We should hold off until we’ve at least found a way to communicate with them.’
‘No.’
‘Charles,’ she breathed heavily, ‘I know you’re worried about her and I know you want her back, but just take a step back and think about this for a moment. If you go barging in there using Hoodoo, which is some pretty heavyweight old world magic, you could end up doing more harm than good.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he replied stiffly, ‘you’re just guessing. How do we know that they aren’t desperate to get back but they had to return to the Otherworld to deal with the Collector? How do you know he didn’t pull them back through?’
‘Charles please, I have a really bad feeling, just hold off a few days that’s all I’m asking. Let’s just see if there’s another way we can contact them.’
‘I can’t,’ he replied quietly, ‘I’m sorry…’
‘Charles…Charles…’
The line went dead.
‘Damn it,’ she swore as she redialed his number. No service. He’d obviously switched his phone off. Growling in frustration she rang her brother’s phone again and got his answering service.
‘Davis listen to me; you have to stop Charles. No matter what you do don’t let him try to pull them back from the Otherworld. It’s really important you don’t interfere. Please call me as soon as you get this message…’
‘Charles, are you ready to leave?’ Davis poked his head around the door, ‘Julien has the car waiting for us.’
‘I’m coming’ Charles nodded, taking one last look at his cell before he turned to follow his brother.
The warm night air was filled with music and laughter as they stepped out into it, heading towards the dark shiny sedan parked in front of the building. A drunken party of Midwesterners rolled past them, stumbling and laughing loudly. Davis took a step back to avoid them and accidentally collided with Charles.
‘Sorry’ he frowned, waiting for them to pass before climbing into the car.
‘No problem’ Charles replied. As Davis disappeared from sight he pulled out Davis’ phone, which he’d snagged from his pocket, pulled up his messages and listened.
‘Davis, listen to me, you have to stop Charles. No matter…’ having heard enough Charles hit delete and then pulled out his own cell phone from his pocket, depositing them both in the nearby trash before climbing into the car.
Nodding to the driver they pulled away from the building and headed out of the city. Much as it had the last time, as the sounds of the city began to fade away they were replaced with the soothing sounds of Katydids and bush crickets. The air hung hot and heavy and laden with expectation. Charles tensed as he sat gazing out of the window. He was doing the right thing; he couldn’t let doubt creep in now. Olivia needed him, he had no doubt of her capability to take care of herself but damn it, she was his child. He couldn’t leave her stranded on the other side, he was going to bring her back no matter what.
In what seemed like no time at all the car slowed and drew to a halt down by the murky water of the Bayou. Once again the small wooden boat awaited, with the same tall thin dark skinned man who never uttered a word. He seemed perfectly content to carry them across the water which was still and sluggish, and heavy with vegetation and algae. As the boat rocked and waded through the water he removed a neatly pressed handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the light sheen of perspiration from his face and neck.
The same rickety ramshackle building floated into view, held up on spindly stilts and rising up out of the swamp in mismatched levels. The boat bumped gently along the long thin wooden walkway and Charles looked up at the lonely cry which echoed through the air. It was a night heron, swooping in to settle on a low branch and watch him with indecipherable eyes. They reached the door and knocked, standing back and waiting patiently until it swung open.
‘I’ll wait here,’ Davis decided, as he pulled out a small can of mosquito spray and applied it liberally to every inch of his exposed fair skin.
Nodding in agreement Charles stepped into the cabin and stopped short, glancing around in confusion, wondering if he was in the right place. Gone was the mad pink shag pile carpet and neat white furniture. There were no longer any china plates bearing scenes of the English countryside hanging from the walls, in fact there was not one frilly curtain, plump cushion or pink bow anywhere. Instead there was little furniture, a plain unadorned wooden table and chairs tucked into the corner of the room, a low brown cracked leather couch was pushed against the other wall and crammed into every other spare inch of room were old glass fronted display cabinets and bookcases of varying shapes and sizes. Laid out carefully on each shelf was a hoard of strange treasures and Charles found himself wandering the room, slowly studying each shelf curiously, his nervousness all but forgotten.
It was like an Aladdin’s cave. Tiny little bottles with glass stoppers lined the shelves, along with old faded leather bound books, some in languages he had never seen before. There were several crystal balls and bell jars containing dried herbs or preserved rodents and amphibians. A large snake skin filled another jar. Other shelves held candles of varying colors, jars filled with a strange black colored dust, Tarot cards, and cards with strange unknown illustrations. On a small table were runes, bones and large bottles. There was a scientific porcelain model head and shoulders, with sections of the brain mapped out on its shiny white scalp. Beside a telescope was a large lidded container which looked, quite disturbingly, as if it contained endless looping coils of intestines.
Charles stopped up short when he came across a cabinet containing what looked like a desiccated and blackened human hand. Fascinated he stepped closer, reaching out towards it.
‘I wouldn’t do that if were you Cher.’
He turned back to see who had spoken and his eyes widened slightly.
‘Cora?’ he asked uncertainly.
‘Who else were you expecting Cher?’
‘You look different.’
‘When I am working there are no masks, no pretenses, just truth.’
‘So this is the real you?’
‘As you see,’ she shrugged.
She stepped bare footed into the room. Gone was the cute little Englishwoman with her perfectly sculpted curls and neatly buttoned up cardigan. Before him stood a slightly older woman with a kind of timelessness about her. If he had to peg her age he’d have put her close to his own, although he imagined she was probably far older than she actually looked. Her long jet black hair was pulled back from her face in a mass of complicated braids, falling down her back in thick ropes which were almost dreadlocks, interwoven every now and then with gold rings. Her skin was a pleasing deep golden honey, her eyes were dark and edged with black Kohl. She w
ore a dark dress which clung to her curves like a second skin. There was a kind of overripe lushness about her, and an appealing sensuality. Dark beads hung around her neck, entwined with several strange pendants which hung down past her breasts almost to her waist. Her nails were painted black and her hands were unadorned, with the exception of a single signet ring of gold, inlaid with a large black stone of polished onyx.
He turned back to the cabinet and to the strange blackened hand.
‘It’s a hand of glory, isn’t it?’
‘Did you come for the tour?’ she asked in amusement, ‘or did you bring the items I requested?’
He handed her the bag he was holding.
‘Good,’ she took it from him slowly, her gaze holding his. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you were coming back, your time was almost up.’
‘We have a deal.’
‘Yes we do Cher,’ she muttered studying him thoughtfully. ‘Shall we begin then?’
As she moved aside his gaze fell to where a large sigil was drawn out on the wooden floor. Spaced at intervals were strategically placed thick stumpy black and white candles, more symbols were scrawled in a circular pattern around them and herbs were scattered everywhere. He watched as she laid the sweater and hairbrush in the center of the circle and retrieved a jar of black dust from one of the shelves.
‘What’s that?’ he asked curiously.
‘It’s Goofer dust,’ she replied as she knelt on the ground, unscrewed the lid and pulled out a great handful scattering it across the symbols.
‘Goofer dust?’ he frowned, ‘isn’t that usually used for hexing?’
‘Usually,’ she agreed ‘but it can also be used for coaxing and coercion. It has many uses, depending on the blend.’
‘What’s in that one?’
‘A little of this, a little of that,’ she shrugged, ‘graveyard dirt, snake skin, ash, salt, powdered bones. Do you really want a lesson on magic?’
‘Sorry,’ he smiled, ‘I’m a teacher by nature. I always was too curious for my own good.’
‘A teacher?’ she raised one slender brow.
‘High school history.’
The Guardians Complete Series 1 Box Set: Contains Mercy, The Ferryman, Crossroads, Witchfinder, Infernum Page 118
