Brandywine Investigations

by Angel Martinez

"Az? Are you all right?" Ridiculous question—of course he wasn't—but Charon didn't want to startle him.

  Nothing. Not a twitch. The sharp scent of blood hit as he took a step closer. That stain on the back of Azeban's coat, his blood, still spreading across his back in an ever-widening pool… Charon swallowed hard against the temptation presented by that rich, rusted scent, but he no longer did such things and certainly didn't devour small, unconscious gods who had never harmed him.

  He touched a too-still shoulder. "Azeban? What's happened here?"

  Carefully, Charon turned him over, and yes, Azeban was breathing, but his limbs flopped, and his head rolled without any hint of control. Out cold and bleeding into the leaf litter.

  Choices. There are always choices. He could walk away and try to pretend he wasn't at all disturbed. None of his business. Except this city belonged to Lord Hades, and what was under his lordship's protection was under his ferryman's. He could go to his lordship and ask what he should do. Except Azeban's body, lying there so unnaturally still, so bereft of his lively, cunning charm, was an accusation all its own. Walking away held so many varieties of wrong.

  "I suppose I'll take you home, then," Charon muttered as he gathered the raccoon god up in his arms. "It's not as if his lordship hasn't ever brought home strays. You'll be my first."

  Not even a double entendre got a reaction. This is bad. Charon lifted him gently, not entirely surprised by how little Azeban weighed, and surveyed the thicket for any hints. No other immortal's signature lingered in the thicket, nor human scent. The leaves on the thicket floor lay undisturbed except for where Azeban had lain, so there had been no struggle here, and there was no sign that Azeban had dragged himself into the brambles. Whatever had happened, it had been somewhere else. Either the little raccoon god must have mustered enough strength to use spirit-path shortcuts to get to the thicket, or someone had dropped him there.

  Finally, Azeban stirred, whimpering, one hand clutching at the pristine white of Charon's dress shirt. Dirt, blood, and the Mother knew what else ground into expensive cotton as Azeban nuzzled closer. Before Charon could 'port to the condo, the shirt was ruined. The stains he could've dealt with, but he couldn't repair the multiple punctures and pulled threads from someone's little claws. With a sigh, he stepped through the between space and arrived at the condo.

  "My lord? Are you home?" Charon called out as he navigated the doorway from his bedroom to the hall. "We have a bit of an issue."

  He expected Lord Hades to come striding from his study. The lack of striding put another disturbing dollop of icing on the day, though Ti did come careening around the corner from the living room, socks slipping and skidding on the hardwood, Nike hard on his heels.

  "Whoa! Crap, who's that? What happened? Were you in a fight? Did you have to pull this guy out of a major ass-kicking?"

  "This, my dear Tiberius, is a god. Show some respect."

  Ti's mouth opened and snapped shut. He recovered quickly enough to grab Nike's collar when she began growling. "No. Nuh-uh. You're messing with me."

  "I assure you, love, he is not."

  Ah. There's his lordship.

  Hades leaned in the doorway to his study. "This is Azeban, the trickster raccoon god of the Abenaki."

  "Oh." Ti leaned in for a closer look. "Okay. He does kinda look like a raccoon. One that's not having a great day."

  "It would appear not." Charon shifted his burden as he passed the linen closet to grab a sheet. "I found him near the river, my lord."

  "Hmm. So he returned to where pursuit began." Hades rubbed at his temples as if his head still hurt. "Perhaps an attempt at contact? Seeking assistance?"

  "It's possible." Charon handed the sheet to Ti, who ran ahead to spread it out over the leather sofa. He knew the drill. "He did make it a very pointed point to return something he took from me the other day. It made me wonder what he wasn't saying."

  Hades frowned and lowered himself to the chair beside the sofa, calling Nike to him as he settled. "Subterfuge?"

  "I had the impression he was trying to pull up his big-boy pants and tell me something." Charon sighed as he set his burden down and started to work off Azeban's coat. "Obviously, he didn't manage."

  Ti sucked in a breath when he caught sight of the still-bleeding wound. "Oh man. Should I call Hermes or someone?"

  Charon debated trying to get the T-shirt off. Too much jostling and yanking would be involved though. With a silent apology, he used the tip of one claw to cut it off. The site still bled, yes, but sluggishly. Something exquisitely sharp, perhaps two inches wide, had stabbed him, larger than most claws, smaller than a sword. Not that the assessment narrowed suspects down in the least.

  "I think we'll manage on our own. Ti. Some warm water and cloths, please. Gauze from the master bath. The blood loss will be the worst of it, and his left lung is compromised by the sound of things, but he's a god. He'll recover." Charon shot Hades a wry grin. "Can we keep him, my lord?"

  "Pardon?"

  "My first stray. May I keep him? You've kept all of yours."

  "Ah. Joke. I see." Hades leaned his head against his hand. "You may keep him until he's well enough to be returned to the wild. Then perhaps he'll tell us about this quarrel, whatever it may be, and I might decide whether he should be turned over for justice to a wronged god or whether he requires protection."

  "My Lord, you seem tired still. I don't normally question you, but did you mean all of that?"

  Hades snorted. "Nonsense. You question me daily. Hourly. Yes, he may stay with us while he recovers."

  "So, um…" Ti placed the pot of warm water on a towel on the floor, the rest of the supplies on the coffee table, and stood ready to assist. "Is this raccoon dude one of the bad guys?"

  "I suppose that depends who you ask," Charon said, distracted by mopping blood off Azeban's back. It was a nice back. Solid. Wide-shouldered for his size.

  Ti flapped a hand with a sound of disgust. "No, you know. The bad guys. Chaos lords. The Deity Legion of Doom."

  Charon blinked at him. "Azeban? You've got to be kidding. If my young lord Dionysus doesn't get to play in their sandbox, Azeban most certainly doesn't."

  "But you guys said he's a trickster god. Doesn't that mean he's like, Chaos-lite?"

  "Our Hermes is often called a trickster god too," Hades said from where he'd slumped back against his chair.

  "Yeah, but that's Hermes."

  "I was born of Chaos too, you know," Charon said as evenly as he could manage. Ti was smarter than this. Unexpected situations turned his reasoning brain to the off position sometimes.

  "Okay, okay. Sorry, Char. I get it. It's a necessary part of the universe, and blah, blah, blah. Not the chaos that's evil, but the intent, right? Still doesn't answer the question."

  Charon finally had the blood mopped up to the point where he could wrap the wound. Without looking up from his work, he pointed to the gauze and snapped his fingers, pleased when Ti complied. He wasn't stalling precisely, but thinking in human terms had tricky moments. "Azeban is a free agent. He does some bad things. He does some good things. Mostly, he just is what he is and does what he does. No grand schemes."

  "But doesn't he have his own, I dunno, pantheon? Relatives? Friends? Someone who'd come get him and take him home?"

  "Gluskabe, the elder brother to the Abenaki gods, the one who might have come, retired from this world long ago," Hades answered softly. "He didn't fade, but he doesn't leave his domain often now. And if Azeban ever had a home, I haven't heard of it."

  "Oh." Ti knelt beside the sofa arm and started combing leaves out of Azeban's thick gray-brown hair. "I didn't know gods could be homeless."

  "Don't let him catch you looking at him with pity," Charon said in his driest tone. "He'll start thinking of a way to exploit it. I think he's happiest outdoors. It's not the hardship for him that it is for humans."

  "'Cause he's a raccoon." Ti cocked his head to one side. "Is he one? Sometimes?"

  "You've met go
ds with different aspects, Tiberius." Hades had leaned his head back against his chair so he spoke to the ceiling. "Bast has both human and cat aspects, but she is never not a cat. Azeban has a human aspect, but the center of his being is always raccoon."

  The words were so weary that Charon twitched around to check on his lordship. "My lord, far be it from me to suggest, but perhaps bed would be a better place to nap."

  "Yes. Of course." Hades scrubbed at his face with both hands and heaved out of the chair. "I'm rather superfluous here as it is."

  "Hey!" Ti called after him. "You're never superfluous! Superb, yeah. Superhuman. Supernatural. Supernova-y."

  They both waited until the door to the master bedroom clicked shut.

  Charon rolled his eyes. "That's not a word and makes less-than-zero sense."

  "It could make sense if you give me a minute to think how."

  "Weirdo."

  "Proto-goth."

  "You're worried about him. Don't even try to shrug it off," Charon murmured.

  Ti left off the impossible task of clearing the understory out of Azeban's hair and sat back on his heels, suddenly far too serious. "Yeah. You are too."

  "If he's not better in the next day or so, I will be making phone calls. Not for Azeban but for his lordship. He won't be happy with me, but better if I make him angry than you."

  "Why's that?"

  "I don't have to sleep with him."

  "True."

  Charon taped the end of the gauze. Not a bad job of it for someone who tended the dead more often than the living. Ti brought blankets, whispering that he was going to check on Hades, and left Charon alone with his stray.

  "And what do you intend to do now?" he asked himself. "Sit here and watch him sleep?"

  Ridiculous, of course. Azeban was as comfortable and as safe as possible now. No need to watch over him. As the minutes ticked by and Charon hadn't moved from his chair, he realized that was precisely what he was going to do.

  Not forest, not forest, not forest… The alarms went off in Azeban's head before he'd struggled back up through the mud to consciousness. Too many unfamiliar scents. A human. Food scents. There had been bacon recently. Mmm. Bacon. At least one immortal… Charon? And…

  "Dog!" Azeban leaped into a crouch, tangled in blankets, found the dog far too close, and leaped to the back of the sofa he was on, still trailing blankets. Woozy and clumsy, his back screaming at him, he fell off the other side.

  "Stay there. Just stay still." Charon's deep voice came from directly overhead, but Azeban couldn't bear to look. He'd burrowed in the blankets to hide. "Go to your bed, Nike. Don't crowd him. That's our good girl."

  Dog nails clicking on the floor and dog tags chiming moved away. Maybe even the next room away before the dog huffed and thumped, apparently settling.

  "Az? Come on out. Nike won't hurt you."

  Out? Blankets. Right. He made a hole in his textile cave big enough for one eye. Indoors, definitely. Someplace pretty swanky by the looks of the hardwood and cushy carpets. Charon. The blackberry thicket by the river. The big scary dog. Oh holy waters no. He was in Lord Hades' human-side home. This was bad.

  Did they know things? How much did they know? Was he a prisoner? Had they already tortured him? Wait. No. That was herself and the knife and Kau.…

  Despair closed back around him, sharp and heavy, stealing his breath even as he began to sob. She had his only friend, and if he said anything, tried to ask for help, she would murder Kau. When the death lords found out who had closed their domains, and they had to figure it out eventually, they would destroy him. Tear him into little pieces and feed him to some monster or other. Probably a dog.

  A heavy sigh came from above him, and long arms scooped him up from the floor. He squeaked and tried to wriggle away, but he didn't have the strength.

  "It's all right, Az. For rivers' sakes. You're safe now. Stop being a ninny."

  He found himself back on the sofa, shivering, while Charon used two claws to peel the blankets back from his head. Nice sofa. Under other circumstances, he would've had fun with how the leather creaked.

  Charon sat beside him, warmer than Azeban would've imagined. What if he seduced Charon? Could he secure an ally against all comers for later developments? Not that he had the energy to seduce even a cat in heat, much less someone as cool and contained as the ferryman. He settled for nestling close and trying to stop his tears.

  "Better." Charon didn't shove him away, but he kept his hands to himself. "Now then. I heard a certain raccoon god sobbing in the woods and found him rather worse for wear. Maybe I should have left you there. I don't suppose you'd care to tell me what happened so I can decide whether I need to put you back?"

  "Thank you," Azeban snuffled. "For taking me in."

  "You're welcome. So what have you gotten yourself into?"

  Azeban sat up slowly so he could look directly into Charon's eyes. He needed sincere. He was sincere as he choked out, "I can't tell you."

  "You can't." Charon didn't look at all pleased. "You can't recall? You physically can't because of some magical restraint? Or you won't?"

  "Please, Char. I can't. I just can't."

  Charon frowned, drumming his claws on his knee. Maybe Azeban should've been more scared than he was. This was the ferryman, whose reputation for kindness was about on par with a crocodile's, but he'd always been nice to Azeban. Civil. Polite. Few immortals were.

  "All right," Charon finally said softly. "At least tell me this. Does your presence here threaten my lord or his household?"

  His presence now? Azeban almost let out a hysterical laugh. He didn't pose a threat to anyone, but what he'd done? He didn't even know what the consequences would be. "No," he answered truthfully. "My being here won't put anyone in danger."

  "No one's coming after you?"

  "Not yet." Azeban shrugged and flinched at Charon's glare. "Oh, hey. It's not like that. If anyone does, it'll just be me they're looking for."

  "What am I supposed to do, then, Az? Tell them you're not the raccoon god they're looking for?"

  He looked down at his blankets, too tired and in too much pain for games. "You do what's best, Char. What's right. I never know what that is."

  Charon stood and paced to the window and back. "You can stay for a bit. Just until you can manage on your own. Lie down. Get some rest. Dinner's at six." Charon started down the hallway beside the kitchen, then reversed course to pin Azeban with a stern gaze. "And the Blue-Bunny-brand Bunny Tracks ice cream in the freezer? That's mine. Touch it and die."

  With a chastised nod, Azeban snuggled down on the sofa, trying not to think too hard. Problem was, the more he tried not to think about everything, the more he thought about ice cream.

  Uncomfortable Shelter

  Chapter Six

  Azeban." Hades nodded to the raccoon god as he took his place at the head of the table.

  "Lord Hades. Thank you for, um, not kicking me out." Azeban had his feet up on his chair, arms wrapped around his knees. Normally, the lord of death wouldn't have tolerated bad manners at his dinner table, but Az was so pale, rocking back and forth as if he needed to hold back screams.

  "Charon tells me you won't speak of your stabbing. Neither who or where or what circumstances. Is that so?"

  "I can't, your lordship." Unlike when he spoke to Charon, Azeban was unable to look at Hades directly. "I really can't."

  "So you're protecting someone?"

  Panic sparked in Azeban's dark eyes. He risked a quick glance at Lord Hades, then glued his gaze back on his plate. "Please don't ask me, your lordship. Please."

  "You're safe here." Hades assured him. "Nothing can hurt you in my home."

  "I know… I know." Azeban buried his face against his knees, his voice hitching and breaking. "Please don't ask me."

  Ti made certain to fill Azeban's plate as they passed dishes, since even food wasn't tempting him out of his curled position. "Okay, nobody's asking." He shot a look toward the head of the table wh
en Hades raised one silver eyebrow. Hades shrugged and subsided, something he rarely did for anyone but Ti. "You need to eat and, you know, get better. I know what it's like to feel alone and like you've got nobody to trust. I get it. Still have to eat. Helps you think straight again."

  Azeban nodded and scooted forward far enough to start shoveling food into his mouth. He did know how to use a fork, though he used his hands just as often, and his feet never budged from the chair as he shoveled down braised carrots, roast beef, and mashed potatoes. Charon found the whole process disturbing. Not the lack of table manners but Azeban's silence. He'd never seen Az when he hadn't been talking up a storm, laughing, cajoling, teasing, wheedling. Whoever had stuck a knife in him appeared to have stolen part of him, and Charon found himself inexplicably angry to see it. This reduced, vulnerable Azeban wasn't right at all and brought out fortress-level protective urges.

  Azeban cleaned his plate and didn't protest when Ti gave him seconds, though he ate them in a more determined fashion instead of giving the impression that someone was about to take his food away. When he finished off the second plate, he sat back, rubbing his eyes, red-rimmed in their dark surrounds. He's full and no one's badgered him. Now he'll say something.

  Charon's hopes were dashed when Azeban curled back in on himself with his face against his knees.

  "Az, why don't you go lie down?" Charon suggested.

  He wanted to wrap his arms around Azeban, but clouds of suspicion made him hesitate. It was possible Azeban was engaging in some long-game grift, and pity would play right into his scam. Doubtful though. This lost sorrow was so out of character and so all consuming, but aside from what seemed real distress, there was so much wrong here.

  With a spare nod, Azeban climbed down from the chair and curled up under the table.

  "Not exactly what I meant." A robin flew by the French doors to the balcony, and the sudden flash of realization made Charon wonder why his brain had been so slow. "Az, where's Kaukont? Why hasn't he come to the windows looking for you?"

  Only silence answered him from under the table.