by P. J. Hoover
But before we walk over to join him, I turn to Shayne. “About Reese—”
Shayne leans over and kisses me, stopping the words, and his kiss erases any desires I felt for Reese.
“It’s okay,” he says once he pulls back. “You don’t have to make any excuses for him.”
I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s like something uncontrollable came over me. “It’s just—”
He shakes his head. “You never have to make excuses for him. He doesn’t play fair.” And his eyes darken. “Which is precisely why I told you to be careful around him. He can’t be trusted. Ever.”
I know he’s right but wish he weren’t. Even though I hate myself for being so weak around Reese, Shayne doesn’t hate me, which is some consolation.
“Why won’t you talk to the assembly of gods about him?” I ask.
The lights from the silver pools shift causing shadows to flicker on Shayne’s face, giving him a more serious look. “Let’s just say some members of the assembly and I are not on the best of terms right now.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because we’re not. End of story.”
I gather not to press him any more.
I remember what Reese said about Randy. If he’d been trying to get under my skin, it had worked. “Randy should be in the Elysian Fields,” I say.
Shayne shakes his head. “I judged him. He’s in Asphodel.”
I glance at Charon who’s watching our conversation but not interrupting. “You judged wrong.” I’ve never felt so sure about anything.
Shayne grabs my hand which I’ve balled up into a fist. “How do you know?”
I shrug and try to relax my muscles. “I just know. I talked to him before…” I can’t believe I was probably the last person to talk to Randy Conner.
“Before he died?” Shayne asks.
“Yeah.” I tell Shayne about the ice storm and about how Randy was watching out for his sister, making sure she got home okay. “He just didn’t seem like such an asshole,” I say. “It was like I could see the good in him.” I don’t mention the blue moss I’d seen on him, but I know it’s a sign. I don’t need anyone’s confirmation on that.
Shayne purses his lips, but he doesn’t say he’s going to change it. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold coin which he flips off his thumb. Charon catches it and pockets it without even looking.
“You know you don’t need to pay,” Charon says.
Shayne grins. “Don’t want anyone to say I don’t pay my fare.”
I watch the conversation and attempt to relax. Try to shake away life’s worries. But I worry I’ve killed Randy Conner and Shayne’s doomed him to Hell for eternity.
Charon flips the coin around in his pocket. “Nobody would dare say anything of the sort.”
It’s the same banter from before, and I realize this must go on every time Shayne makes the water journey. Eternal friendship.
“Can you move Randy?” I ask.
I hear Charon let out a whistle under his breath.
“No, Piper. I can’t. He’s been judged. He has to stay there.”
“But don’t you ever worry that you’re wrong?” I ask.
Shayne looks out across the water when he answers. “If I worried about that, it would consume me. I judge and move on.”
I process this thought as we get into the boat and decide I’ll come back to it. There has to be some way I can get Shayne to move Randy. Charon boards last and picks up the pole to move us.
“How long have you and Charon known each other?” I ask. We sit on the bow of the boat, side by side still in the darkest part of the cavern. I look out to the black water, seeing the sorrows there bubbling to the surface. Seeing the creatures shimmering below the froth, eating what sorrows they catch. Far ahead, the sky brightens where I know the two suns shine down from above.
“Forever.”
I laugh. “That’s a long time.”
Shayne pulls me closer. “An eternity.”
“So who do you live here with? Just Charon?”
Shayne glances back at Charon whose face is frozen as if he’s trying to not blink. But Shayne quickly turns back to me and smiles. “Don’t forget Rhadam.”
I smile at the memory of the energetic overlord of the Elysian Fields.
“And Cerberus. Not to mention the billions of dead souls keeping me company.”
I think of the sorrows of all those souls, left behind here in the river to be devoured by creatures of the Underworld. “What was Randy Conner’s last sorrow?” The question forces its way into my mind. I can’t pick Randy out of the chorus. All the voices blend together, shifting in rhythm when one gets swallowed by the creatures. Moving to fill the empty space.
Shayne is rigid against me all of a sudden. “You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do.” I think of the shuttle accident. Randy’s girlfriend and tons of friends and classmates at his funeral. His miserable family. And I remember Tanni and her friends by the Virgin Mary. I press my eyes closed and try to find his sorrow on my own, but it won’t come. “I just want to know.”
“Maybe you should just let Randy be.”
But I know I can’t let Randy be. “I want to know.”
Shayne sighs and looks to the river, and I see a bubble rise to the surface. It grows larger and begins to float, and the things under the water stay away from it.
I lean toward the edge of the boat, hoping to hear, but I feel Shayne’s hands grab my arms. He’s worried I’ll fall in.
“I want to hear.” I need to hear.
“You’ll be able to.”
So I lean back into him and close my eyes again.
If I die, who will protect them?
I gasp when I hear it, and images fill my mind. My eyes fly open, remembering his family at the funeral. His little sister with dry eyes. His mom shaking with sorrow, leaning away from his dad, not touching him. And his dad, with a black aura of anger pulsing through his veins. I see his dad’s anger in Randy’s sorrow. Anger his dad can’t control. Anger which makes Randy’s dad hit his wife and children.
Tanni’s words pound into my head.
“It’s my fault.”
I don’t even realize I say them aloud.
“No, Piper.”
The bubble pushes again below the water and disappears. My fault. Randy Conner’s death is my fault.
“I made you save Chloe.”
But Shayne grabs my shoulders and turns me to him. “No, it’s not your fault. You can’t think that way.”
“Then why?”
Shayne narrows his eyes and glances to the side. “The Fates determine who will die next. Not you. Not me. Chloe lived, and they chose Randy Conner.”
It’s all tumbling around in my mind. “But if Chloe had…” I can’t even bring myself to say it. I don’t want her dead. More than anything, I don’t want her dead.
“Randy may still have died.” His eyes shift back to me. “It’s all a game to them, watching lives fall apart.” His eyes have narrowed to slits, but the brown irises inside start to stir with flecks of red.
“And you do whatever they say?” I know it comes out harsh, but he’s just taken Randy and delivered him for eternity to the wrong place.
His defenses go up. “What do you mean?”
“When they die. You take the soul away from whoever the Fates say.”
An icy look runs across Shayne’s face, and his arms tense. “I don’t take anyone’s soul away.”
I motion around with my arm. “But this is your world.”
Shayne is holding anger just under his skin. “Yeah. My world. And my responsibility. But not my doing.”
“But I thought—”
“—wrong.” Shayne’s eyes won’t meet mine. “My job is to judge and maintain control. And trust me, that’s a big enough job.”
I feel like I’ve slapped Shayne. My cheeks burn, and I wish I could take it back. “I’m sorry.”
Shayne’s face softens, and
he gives my shoulder a gentle caress which sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m the easy person to blame.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
His lips curl up in a smile. “It does get a bit old having every single death in history blamed on me. But it goes with the job.”
“So why is Randy in Asphodel?”
“It’s not so bad there, Piper,” Shayne says.
Bad or not, if I’ve fated Randy to die and doomed his family to suffer under an abusive father, then at least I need to see the product of my actions. My choice to save Chloe. “I want to see.”
Shayne rubs my shoulder and pulls me close. “I know.”
I hardly remember Charon is on the boat. His presence seems to evaporate when Shayne and I argue. When the boat bumps against the dock and Charon jumps out, I remember him, and my heart sinks; I’ve hardly spoken a word to him.
But he’s the one who helps me out this time, and when his hand grabs mine, he gives it a quick squeeze. Something stirs inside me, and I reach out and hug him. He lets go of my hand and grabs me in a bear hug so fierce, my lungs feel like collapsing. When he lets go, his weathered face cracks into its smile, which, even after two visits, I love.
“Have a wonderful time.”
I smile back, and Shayne gets out of the boat behind me. “I will.” The Underworld feels more welcoming than my real home back at the Botanical Haven, even with all its scary river monsters and haunting sorrows.
Once our feet hit the swampy shore, Cerberus runs over, weaving through the trees, tail thumping so hard it’s like his lower half is another head with a mind of its own. He jumps both front paws up onto Shayne, and they wrestle around until Shayne finally falls to the ground.
“Does he wait for you every time you leave?”
Shayne reaches over to rub Cerberus’s belly which causes him to flop down, roll over, and expose every bit of his giant stomach. Even with three heads, he’s just a dog.
“Pretty much. Man’s best friend, right?”
I laugh. “You mean god’s best friend.”
“I may be a god, Piper, but I’m still just your regular, average guy.”
All it takes is one look at Shayne to know there’s nothing average about him.
We turn and wave a final goodbye to Charon. He’s already far away from the dock, out in the reeds and cattails, but the warmth of his smile even at that distance broadens my own.
“Charon likes you,” Shayne says.
“I like Charon.”
Shayne laughs. “Now that’s one thing not many people will say. Most people aren’t happy about dying. Everyone knows they don’t live forever, but when it’s actually their time, they almost never want to go.”
I think of Randy Conner. “Randy didn’t want to go, did he?”
Shayne shakes his head. “No. I crossed with him. It was pretty rough going at first. But once he got to the other side…well, it always changes.”
We reach the end of the tunnel, and ahead, I can already see the flickering from the fireplace inside Shayne’s home. Cerberus curls in front of the fire, and instead of sitting next to Shayne on the sofa, I plop myself on the ground next to Cerberus and start scratching between a couple of his ears. I feel Shayne’s eyes on me though I don’t turn to look at him.
“Did you miss me?” He tilts his head and pauses and waits for my answer.
I move my hand, scratching a different head. “I missed your dog.”
Shayne laughs and comes down to sit on the ground next to me. He touches my earlobe which causes a tingle somewhere which is definitely not my earlobe. And he pulls my ponytail holder out, letting my hair escape from its bonds.
“I’m glad you came back.”
My chest is tight, and I don’t dare look at him. I know I could melt into Shayne and let him absorb me forever. “I am, too.” I lean my back against him, and we sit there, me still scratching Cerberus, and Shayne running his hand through my hair. The fire never dies. It crackles and spits sparks into the air, and with the burnt aroma, I feel more like I’m in Heaven than Hell. And I never want to leave.
“Are you sure you want to see Asphodel? We could go back to the Elysian Fields. Rhadam’s been asking about you.”
Shayne’s words snap me out of the paradise I’m living. It’s not that I want to see Asphodel. I need to see it. I look at Shayne; his lips have pressed into a smile. “I’d take paradise forever,” I say. Here with him.
“Most people would, when given the choice.”
“But they don’t get a choice, do they?”
He shakes his head, and orange embers from the fire reflect off the blackness of his hair. “If they did, no one would choose Tartarus, would they?”
I consider this. “Maybe the really bad ones would. They might want a lifetime of torture.”
His eyes shift to the side for only a second, but I notice. “No one would choose that life, Piper. Trust me. To end up in Tartarus is like picking the short stick in life. Or death, as the case might be. And the worst part is it lasts forever. There’s no getting out.”
I sit up. “Never?”
“Never. There are two basic rules down here. Once a person has been judged, they stay where they are placed forever.”
Like Randy Conner. Stuck forever in Asphodel. But I’m not ready to accept this yet. “And the second?” I ask.
“No one can ever leave the Underworld.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Except the exceptions of course,” I say. “And me.”
Shayne rolls his eyes. “I’m not talking about you. You haven’t died. Not to mention you came here by your own choice, and you are my guest.”
His guest. I like that. “Too bad.” I’m joking, but only kind of. “If I couldn’t leave, I’d have to stay here forever. And my mom couldn’t do anything about it.”
Shayne’s face tightens, and it looks like I’ve made him mad.
“What? I’m only kidding.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
But my mind tells me I should know why he’s upset. “What did I say wrong?”
“Wrong?” Shayne stands up. “You didn’t say anything wrong.” He walks away from the fireplace—away from me. I watch his feet step across the red and black mosaic floor—the floor I love as if I’ve created it myself.
I stand up and follow him. He reaches a table set against the far wall. It’s black wood, buffed to such a high polish, I can see his reflection in it. A picture hangs overhead, oil painted on canvas, with souls and angels and demons and Hell partitioned into regions with rivers flowing throughout. “Then why are you upset?” I ask.
Shayne turns and leans against the table which rocks under his weight. All at once, his eyes shift. Flickering, but so fast they’re like sparks in a fire. Like the air around him could ignite if he wanted it to. He’s holding a helmet of some sort. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s made to cover only the crown of the head, and it shines of pure gold.
He holds it out to me, and the air crackles around him and it. “Piper, do you know what this is?”
My breath catches in my throat. I do. I know exactly what it is. I’ve seen this object many times before, but I don’t remember any of them. “It’s the Helm of Darkness.”
Shayne’s face relaxes as if the weight of the helmet has been removed from his head. “Yes. It’s the Helm of Darkness.”
My mind forms the words for me. “It makes its wearer invisible.”
Shayne nods and turns, setting it back on the table. “Do you know who I am?” He turns back when he says it, and it looks like he’s going to take a step closer to me, but he doesn’t.
My feet feel planted in the ground; I can’t move. “Shayne. You’re Shayne.”
“And…?”
I take a deep breath. I’m not sure why I have a hard time saying it—even to myself. “You’re Hades. Lord of the Underworld.”
Shayne’s eyes bore into me, and I take a step back without even thinking about it. “And w
ho are you?” he says.
I don’t know who I am. I want to be someone else, but I’m not sure who. Someone who lives a life of tattoos and danger. Someone who doesn’t obey every small command her mother makes. I want to be that person, but I know I’m not.
“I’m Piper,” I say, but I feel like there’s more.
Shayne’s eyes stay locked on mine, but something disappears from them. Something hopeful and mysterious. “Yes. You’re Piper.” He walks toward me, and his eyes return to normal. He leans forward and kisses me on the lips gently. And I know whether he claims to be a god or an average guy, I love him.
“Are you ready to see Asphodel?”
With Shayne, I’m ready for anything. “Tell me about Asphodel.”
“It’s the place in between,” he says. “For the souls who aren’t so good and aren’t so bad.”
“Like Purgatory?”
He seems to consider this. “Purgatory. That’s one way to look at it.”
Shayne smiles, and I never want him to stop. His smile has a way of filling me with a comfort I haven’t felt my entire life. I link my arm around his, and we start walking. “Except no one minds being there. They don’t even think about it.”
“So Randy is happy?” Maybe I can just find him in Asphodel and say goodbye. Tell him I’m sorry.
Shayne’s smile turns wry. “I’m not sure I’d go quite that far. But I’ll let you decide for yourself.” And then he picks up the Helm of Darkness and clips it onto his belt, and we move out of his sanctuary into the blackness of another tunnel.
Chapter 24
Asphodel
Nice is erroneous. From the minute we reach the barren, red shore, I know this: Asphodel is a hell. Not like the eternal torture Shayne tells me is Tartarus. But a hell all the same.
The thick scent of musty wet clay hits me from the first step. I screw up my nose and look out from the mouth of the cave. “Which river is this?” I motion out beyond the dried up red river banks to the churning rusty water in the middle, and I see monsters again, but they aren’t staying under the surface. They’re jumping above, baring their fangs, snapping at each other. Their razored fins slice at each other, and if they bleed, their blood blends with the red water.
