by Charlie Hart
13
South
On the boat ride, I’m filled with conflicting emotions. I saw the way Tennyson forgave Hawthorne for a lifetime of lies -- and damn, it makes me love her even more.
I remember women in Detroit while growing up. Jealous, bitter, full of rage.
But tonight, Ten showed her truest colors, colors I’ve rarely glimpsed. She tries to stay so tough, so resilient but tonight she was soft. She was understanding. She accepted Hawthorne for what he is, demon and all.
The guys all begin rowing the boat and Hawthorne tells us the direction of the Acheron river. How he fucking knows the way is beyond me, but I try not to grumble about his deceit. If Ten can be a bigger person, then I can be too. Right?
God, it’s not that fucking easy.
Still, I like Styx way better than Detroit. And I’ve loved this half-life with her.
I’m not ready to lose it.
“Hey,” she says, sitting beside me in the back of the boat. “You okay?”
I lift a brow, wishing there was a moon in Styx to shine down on her. I want to see her eyes, her long lashes, the curve of her nose. Everything.
“I’m okay. Just, it’s a lot.”
“Death?”
I nod. “I’ve done it once, don’t really wanna do it again.”
“I know. But I think this will be less painful for you.” She lowers herself to the bottom of the boat, her feet tucked under her knees, resting her head on my lap.
“A different kind of pain.” I was shot in the chest the first time I died, a victim of a crime I wasn’t involved in, but hell, I paid the price. Bled to death on the concrete while my brother held me in his arms.
This, though? This life with Tennyson was totally different than in the apartment where I grew up. A single mom trying to make ends meet month after month. Bills left unpaid, hot water gone, and heat a luxury.
Then I came here, grieved the loss of my family sure, but I was welcomed into the arms of a new kind of family. A new existence was born in the darkness.
“Maybe Eric has an idea… he came up with going to this river,” I say, praying to a God I don’t believe in for a way out of hell.
“I don’t know what scares me more,” Ten whispers as the faint fog of morning rising on the water surrounds us. We’ve been up all night. “Your soul being buried forever, or spending eternity in the Underworld, no longer remembering the life you used to have.”
“I can’t even think like that yet,” I tell her. “I can’t imagine life without you.”
Tennyson’s shoulders shake as I row and it’s as if we’re moving through a river made of her tears.
“Tell me a happy story,” she asks. It’s one of her favorite things to do, to hear stories from a world she has nearly forgotten.
“Once upon a time there was a boy who lived in a city full of people. It was hard living there, scary. Gunshots and gangs. And he thought he’d be stuck there forever, never to escape.”
“What happened to the boy?” She looks up at me, knowing the ending.
“He happened upon another world where he fell in love with a woman he’d never have had a chance with Earth-side.”
“You don’t know that,” Ten shushes.
“But I do know. When I was living, my future was bleak. Then I died and got a new lease on life with a woman who was beautiful, funny, and so fucking forgiving.”
“You think too much of me,” she says, looking up at me. I rest the oar in its oarlock and scoop her up in my lap.
“No, Tennyson. I think I got my happy ending once when you found me. I’m not so foolish to believe I’ll get it again.”
“Is once enough?” she asks, her lips parting, her breathing shallow.
“Once is more than most people ever get in their lifetime.”
Then I kiss her, holding her in my arms, offering her the broken pieces of myself, overwhelmed with how perfectly we fit together despite our cracks.
There is the slightest differentiation between day and night in Styx. Daytime turns the world gray, but it’s brighter than the pitch dark of night. Ten and Hawthorne don’t notice the change, but they’ve been here longer and can’t remember sunrises and sunsets the way I can.
As we finally get to the fork in the River Styx and head east, I’m glad that I can make out the landmarks. I hate the idea of not knowing where I am, even if I don’t quite understand where Styx is in the grand scheme of things. I must that missed the English classes in high school where they discussed Greek mythology -- because it turns out that shit is real. The Underworld is no joke, and Mount Olympus -- some fucking palace in the sky -- is apparently where the gods and goddesses live.
And here we are, on a boat looking for some magic river that can get us the hell out of this in-between.
14
Tennyson
According to Eric, Acheron is called the river of sorrow, and one look at the desolate landscape, I understand why. There is a deep moaning coming from the depths of the water and dark-winged birds dip into the marshy reeds.
“It’s so cold,” I say, shivering, still barefoot and barely dressed. South’s leather jacket helps, but it makes me feel shitty to know he’s cold too. We’re standing on the riverbank, and we don’t know which way to go.
“Why is it called the river of sorrow?” I ask, wishing we’d gone back to the place we’d been living so I could change clothes. But considering my men are literally half the men they were before, there is no time to waste.
“I don’t know. Gaia just said, Find the sister of the one you love and take her to Acheron, the River of Sorrows, and she said I’d know what to do when I arrived.”
“So, what do we do?” I ask.
Hawthorne says, reaching for my hand. “There’s a place here that shows you your deepest sorrow from Earth.”
“Shit,” Lennox says. “Not interested.”
“How is that going to help us get out of here?” South asks.
Nodding in agreement, I toss more fuel to the fire. “And how do you know this anyway, Hawthorne?”
Eric groans at all of us, once again annoyance is written on his face. “We have to focus; do you get that?”
“Sorry,” I say, feeling the sting of his reprimands.
“Do you four always bicker like this?”
I look at my best friends, twisting my lips. We all hide a smile, because the truth is, we do love to argue, and none of it hurts. The way we speak to each other is just in the spirit of friendship, of love.
“It’s kind of our mode of operation,” South admits.
“Well, you need to get over it if you want this group thing to work out long-term.”
“Oh yeah?” Lennox asks. “What do you mean?”
“Well, aren’t you guys, like, a family?”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, mud squishing between my toes. The guys are sweaty after all the rowing, not to mention the fact we are fading in new ways as the hours pass.
“We’re a family, for however long we have left,” I say. And South, Lennox, and Hawthorne nod in agreement. “What are we waiting for?” I ask. “Aren’t we supposed to be finding passage out?”
Eric nods. “I just don’t know where that might be.”
“If this Mother-Earth-whatever-thing said you’d know you should look around,” I prompt.
Eric runs a hand through his thick black hair. “Right.” He eyes the river bank, the boat. The swampy land beyond -- it is like a never-ending marsh, damp and dank as far as the eye can see. “I know water more than land,” he says finally walking back into the river.
“Careful,” Lennox warns. “There is something living in that water. Don’t you hear the moans?”
Eric creases his eyebrows. “Things grow in all water.”
“Right.” Lennox gives him a tight smile. “I just don’t want you to drown.”
Again, Eric looks at us like we are fools. And maybe we are.
We’re barely educated, I can only read si
nce Lennox taught me when he arrived, and the only books we find are whatever happens to have made its way through death. I guess South is the smartest, but as a unit, we aren’t exactly scholars. We are survivors. We went to the school of hard knocks.
Eric walks into the water, sinking down to his knees, cupping the water in his hand. “Harlow is a siren,” he says speaking in a slow steady voice that draws me toward him. There is something connecting us that I can’t deny. Don’t want to deny.
“What do you mean a siren?”
“She shifts from woman to creature of the sea.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s Poseidon’s daughter, I suppose.” He splashes the water on his face, unafraid. “And you are Hades’ daughter, that’s why you’re here but aren’t dead, right?”
Nodding, I sink down next to him in the water, feeling a pull toward the river as well. I sense Lennox, South, and Hawthorne coming close behind me, but I don’t turn. My eyes are fixed on the water, on Eric’s words.
“Hear me out,” he says. “It’s just a theory. Harlow’s dad found her when she turned twenty-one after she put on a magic ring. It drew him to her.”
I how him the only hand I have left. “I don’t have a ring.”
“I see that. But the thing is… maybe you are supposed to be hidden from Hades. To stay safe? Maybe that’s why you are here.”
I swallow, looking over my shoulder at my best friends. “I don’t want to stay here forever, alone.”
Lennox, Hawthorne, and South join us in the water which, surprisingly, is less chilly when sitting in the water than it was when we stood.
“I should go to him,” I say, speaking and thinking at the same time. “I should go to him and find the truth.”
“No,” Eric says adamant, shaking his head. “That’s what Harlow did, and it killed me and almost destroyed her. Poseidon was evil, wanted to hurt her. And I guess you are a half-sister, different fathers, but the same principle seems to apply, right? These fathers aren’t any good. They are set to ruin their daughters.”
Again, I’m feeling overwhelmed with information. “What are we even doing here?” I shout. “Why would Gaia want us at the River of Sorrow? Why wouldn’t she explain more?”
“She seems weak,” Eric says. “Impossibly frail.”
“And why do you trust her anyway?” I shoot back. “What if she’s on a mission to hurt us too?”
Eric shakes his head. “Gaia isn’t evil. She’s only good things.” His hand moves in the water, and then he is staring at it as if mesmerized.
“And why are we even trusting you?” I ask, turning on him. “I mean, honestly, you are a stranger. You could be trying to... I don’t know... infiltrate us somehow.”
“Like he did?” Eric asks directing his words at Hawthorne. “Tell her she’s acting crazy,” he tells the guys.
“Uh, Ten can do whatever the hell she wants,” Lennox says with a scowl.
“She can say whatever the hell she wants too,” South adds.
“Look at us,” I shout. “We’re sitting in a fucking muddy river with a man who pretends to have answers,” I shout.
“Oh yeah?” Eric asks, splashing more and more water on his face as if it’s the elixir he’s been looking for. “Do you have a better idea?”
I look down at my pathetic self, sitting in the river, a soaked through dress and a ruined leather jacket. A sob rising in my throat as I look up, into the eyes of the men. My heart stops as I take in the reality. We are sitting here fighting and losing precious time.
They are going to fade before the day is through.
“Fine,” I say, slapping the water. “What does Gaia think I can do for Harlow?”
Eric gives me sly smile. “Let’s find out.”
And before I can think, he pushes my head into the water.
15
Tennyson
I slap the surface of the water, thinking I’m going to die. Or whatever it would be called. Maybe you can’t drown here. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
No, it absolutely does not matter.
Because under the water I see something.
What Eric wanted to show me, the reason why Gaia would have wanted me to come here.
Under the surface of the water, I see what I lost.
My own river of sorrow.
With my head under the water, my mother’s kitchen comes into focus. The room is filled with people, and it takes a moment for my eyes to land on those of my mother. She sits at the same worn table, a teacup in hand, but I see she has aged nearly twenty-years. With a gasp I realize this isn’t her as I remember her... this is her as she is now.
My mother has aged so much.
I gasp as I take her in. Her clear eyes are blurry, her blonde hair has grayed, her fingers trembling as someone speaks. Looking around, I try to find the voice and I narrow my eyes, trying on focus on sound.
Miraculously I can hear it, ever so faintly. The voice of --
But then I am pulled from the water and shouts surround me. I’m in Styx, so far from the comfort of my mother’s home. My eyes are wild as I try to figure out what is happening. Lennox has his hands on me, pulling me from the water and I struggle to get free from him. He doesn’t understand staying under that water is not going to drown me, it is going to open my eyes.
“Fuck you,” South shouts across the river, pushing Eric into the water.
“I’m not trying to hurt her. You can see things in this water. She can--”
He doesn’t wait to hear him out, South punches him the jaw, pushing him back into the River of Sorrow. South thinks Eric was hurting me but he is so, so wrong.
“Stop,” I scream, as Eric pulls himself for the water lurching for South. “Please,” I shout. “South, listen to me.”
“Stay back, Ten,” he yells. “I’m taking care of it.”
“Enough,” I shriek, this time aware that everyone does what I ask. Apparently, I needed to scream to get their attention. “All of you, listen. Stick your faces in the water and relax. Hold my hands or something. I want you to see what I see.”
“What do you mean?” Hawthorne asks.
Eric pushes his hair from his eyes, glaring at South as he walks toward me. “It worked then?”
“What worked?” Lennox asks, his hand still on what is left of my shoulder.
Eric looks directly at Lennox, and when he speaks, his voice is solemn, “I drank out of the river and saw some twinges of memories. Like, a still frame of Harlow’s face, her pink hair and bright eyes pierced my heart. I saw her, and I hoped Tennyson might too, might remember her sister.”
My sister.
I need to go back there. I tug on Lennox’s hand. “Believe me,” I say. “Look.”
And so, they all follow suit, hearing my wish. We take hands and create a circle, and we kneel in the river, the group of us waterlogged and exhausted, half-faded, nearly dead. Yet, we still cling to one another.
We aren’t ready to let go. Not yet. Not like this.
Again, I am under the water, and I blink, trying to see my men from this vantage, but I can’t. All I see in front of me is my mother’s kitchen once more. Lennox squeezes my hand, and on the other side of me, Hawthorne holds my forearm.
And then I turn my head, taking in more of the space, and I realize my mother’s kitchen is still full of people and now I notice the women she is with... a pink haired woman with a pregnant belly--it must be her: Harlow. She is crying, wiping her eyes, and sitting across from my mother at the table. Her pale pink hair falling in her face.
And there’s a woman with bright red hair, pregnant also, but she isn’t crying; she looks pissed. And then... then I see her.
Lark.
She hardly looks human... and I know I don’t either, but she looks like a mythical creature more than human. She looks like magic. Her hair is streaked in vibrant colors, her shoulders graceful, her limbs long. She looks almost like some winged creature; like the most beautiful bird, I’ve ever seen.
>
My heart beats heavily in my chest. The deepest longing I’ve ever known fills my heart, and all I want is to be free of this fucking place and to go see her. The girl who was my best friend before I came to Styx; the cousin who was much too good for me. She was gentle and true and kind. And I was a naughty girl. I had been then breaking the rules, who had stolen the ring--
My breath catches.
The ring.
Eric said Harlow put on a ring and everything changed.
I put on a ring and everything changed too. Lightning fell from the sky and splintered my life in two. Before and after. Earth and Styx. I was carried here by a gust of wind, but even as I think it, it makes no sense.
How could such a thing happen?
The girls are talking in the kitchen, and now I can hear them. I push out the competing thoughts and focus on them.
“She’s got to be somewhere,” Harlow says to my mother. I see my mother’s crystal ball on the wooden table, milky and filled with magic.
“I know,” Mother says solemnly. “I know she hasn’t passed to the spirit world but she isn’t on Earth either. It’s like she’s trapped.”
“How do you know that?” the redhead asks.
“Because, Remedy,” Lark says softly “My aunt’s a witch. She knows these things.”
“Convenient.” Remedy runs her fingers through her long hair.
Harlow looks over at her. Squinting, trying to read her as if they hardly know one another at all. “Are you always this negative?”
Remedy shrugs. “I know I was the one who dragged Lark here, but this is stupid. We’re never going to get an answer unless Gaia shows up to help us.”
“She isn’t coming,” my mother whispers, her fingers resting on the ball. She closes her eyes, focusing the power within the orb.
As a little girl, I watched her do this so many times. Now the memories come flooding back. Mom with clients, reading their fortunes, making them cry tears of joy or pain. Mom always said it wasn’t her choice what message was delivered. She was nothing but a vessel for the future, the spirit world, and the great beyond.
