Brandywine Investigations

by Angel Martinez

  "Char, my office, please." Hades folded his napkin and rose from the table, his movements stiff and slow.

  "Yes, my lord."

  They left Ti attempting to coax Azeban to the couch. Charon shut the office door behind him and leaned against it, waiting for his lordship to settle in his chair.

  "My lord, if you're not well—"

  "I'm fine, Char. Leave off fussing."

  "If you say so. A quick trip to the palace might not be amiss, my lord. This current investigation—"

  "Is a missing child. I won't abandon a child because I'm a bit tired." The tightening of his lordship's jaw signaled annoyance leaning into anger.

  Charon switched tactics. "You have thoughts on Azeban's situation, I gather."

  "Yes." Hades stared into nothing for a long moment before he spoke again. "He refuses to speak of his ordeal. That is, he has not attempted to lie or to spin stories. He simply refuses. His crow is missing. What does this tell you?"

  "He's under duress. Whether this is because of something he did or because of something he's expected to do or something he knows, I can't guess. Whoever's threatening him has Kau. Of that I'm certain."

  "Someone is using Kau to threaten him. Yes, I came to the same conclusion."

  Charon crossed his arms, drumming his claws on his sleeve. "Someone powerful enough that he's convinced if he says anything, gives any hint, somehow this being will know. What do we do, my lord?"

  "We dig into this. We ask. Someone will have heard whispers. Rumors." Hades leaned back in his chair, fixing Charon with a penetrating gaze. "In the meantime, I won't have him here. I won't have Ti endangered, no matter how badly you feel for him."

  Blindsided, it took Charon a moment to produce any sort of answer. "My lord, I would ne—"

  Hades held up a hand to stop him. "I know, Char. You would defend me and that which belongs to me unto your last breath. Your counsel has brought me through my darkest moments. I trust you beyond all others. But in this, I believe your judgment compromised."

  "I don't… my lord?"

  "Azeban's plight has touched you. I believe this is what Tiberius calls White Knight Syndrome."

  "Because I want to help someone having a bad time, my judgment's clouded." Charon stopped just short of sarcasm.

  The corner of Hades's mouth tipped up in a wistful hint of a smile. "Char, when I first met you, it wouldn't have been something you even considered. You agreed to serve me, but compassion? It was a foreign concept."

  Charon snorted and waved a dismissive hand. "Long ago, my lord."

  "It was." Hades patted his arm. "Still. I won't allow him to stay here."

  "I can't toss him out. Don't ask that of me."

  "No. I'm not as coldhearted as that. He is, I believe, in peril still." Hades stared at his shoes a moment before he said, "The Library."

  "Ah. There's a thought. Safer now since the Bull of the Sun incident."

  Hades nodded. "The entrances are more secure, yes. The Library is neutral ground."

  "Shall I speak to Leander then, my lord? I don't imagine it would be a good thing to simply turn a raccoon loose in the stacks."

  "I'll send him an email, since Dio has insisted that he keep an account. If you would advise our guest."

  Charon carefully hid his frown. Any other day, Hades would have simply walked through the private doorway at the back of his study that led into the Eternal Library. It was his doorway, stable and attuned to him, so going through was no effort. Hades simply didn't have the energy to walk the vast corridors of the Library to find Leander and refused to admit it.

  Stubborn.

  "As you wish, my lord."

  The human's face appeared under the table. Upside-down.

  "Hey, little god dude? You want some ice cream? I've got this great salted-caramel chocolate chip one. The Bunny Tracks one is the best, but that's Char's, and he'd have to say it's okay."

  Azeban had heard that Hades had taken a human lover. He'd been expecting someone different. Taller. Broader. Fiercer. More glowery. More like his lordship. This one seemed so… nice. Not that Lord Hades was a mean god. Not a warm and fuzzy god but decent and fair. He just wasn't likely to bend himself into a pretzel to offer someone ice cream.

  Azeban had eaten enough at dinner that he wasn't hungry, but some parts of being a raccoon were too strong to ignore. You took food when someone offered, no matter how miserable you were. The urge to snatch the carton nearly overwhelmed him. He didn't think dripping ice cream on his lordship's nice carpet would win him any points though.

  Slowly, he uncurled and crawled out from under the table. Ti had wandered over to the sofa, where he'd pulled the coffee table close and set the carton of ice cream on it. Two spoons stuck up from the solid mass, sentinels in a frozen field. When Azeban joined him on the sofa, he focused on the ice cream, guilt and anguish making it impossible to meet those kind eyes. Following Ti's lead, he took a spoonful, salt-sweet chocolate on his tongue, and for reasons he couldn't quite explain, his eyes prickled with tears.

  "It's okay," Ti murmured as they ate. "They're gonna help. They're superheroes. It's what they do. How's your shoulder?"

  They can't help. No one can. And they won't once they know… They'll find out…" Better."

  He twitched, startled, when Charon came back out of the room he and Lord Hades had entered. The ferryman glided as much as he walked, smooth and more graceful than river reeds. Humans would never have found him beautiful. Azeban did. Beautiful and deadly, urbane, and yet still he held the primal storms of chaos in his eyes.

  Charon settled on the other side of him, still giving him plenty of space, since the sofa was that huge. "Well. Apparently I'm the only member of the household not allowed to keep strays."

  "Hey! I've never—" Ti stopped his protest as disbelief spread over his face. "No. Oh no. You guys can't kick him out. Not when he's hurt and stuff."

  Azeban held up the hand with the spoon in it, realized how silly that looked, and stuck the utensil in the ice cream crater he'd made. "I get it. Thanks for everything you did, Char. I really appreciate it. But I'm good with cutting out. Not much of an inside person anyway."

  "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize that raccoons were natural martyrs," Charon said with a snort. "Did I say anything about tossing you out? Let me think about that. Hmm. No. No, I didn't."

  "What?" Azeban shrank away, instinctively searching for the closest exits.

  "My lord believes the library will be the safest place for you right now."

  Azeban pulled his knees up under his chin. "Probably not the city library, huh?"

  When Charon touched his knee, he found himself fascinated by that long white hand, the elegant black claws. An ancient being, like him, from before the time of humans, though Charon was probably older than that, from before the time the Earth had been fully formed. Powerful in his own right, sometimes deadly and terrifying— Why hadn't he ever taken his place among the Chaos lords?

  Looking into those fathomless black eyes, he knew the answer though. Not all immortals born on the Chaos side of the blanket were prone to destruction lust. Azeban certainly wasn't. Small mischiefs but not wholesale suffering. Charon was the balance for Lord Hades in ways that he perceived instinctively but couldn't quite express, the bit of necessary chaos to his absolute rule of law.

  "The Eternal Library, Az. Have you ever been there?"

  Startled out of his thoughts, Azeban blurted out, "Why would I ever go there?"

  "Don't you read things?" Ti asked. "Ever need to find out things you don't know?"

  Azeban shrugged, both wary of the questions and too damn tired to puzzle through why they bothered him. "I can read. When I have to. If I need to find stuff out, I go and look. Listen. Feel around."

  "Fair enough." Charon nodded. "But even with the books, I think you'll like it there. It's more of a maze than most libraries. Much to explore."

  Any other time, Azeban would've been interested, bouncing with excitement. He would've p
lanned with Kau how best to explore. That thought brought the breath up sharp in his throat, and he buried his face against his knees again to hide the tears.

  "Or perhaps not." Charon put an arm around him and gave him a little shake. "Safe, Az. Since you can't tell us what's happened, that's the best we can do for you while we find out how to help."

  Azeban wanted to snuggle into an embrace he had no right claiming, wanted Charon's long arms wrapped all the way around him. He knew he'd feel safe, then, but what right did he have to that? Safe wasn't something he'd really craved before. His life was risk and rootless wandering. Sometimes he schemed and got away by the skin of his teeth. Sometimes he paid certain consequences. But he never worried about safe. That was for people with permanent homes, possessions, life mates. Until now. Now he couldn't put down the panic, and all he wanted was safe.

  "Come with me," Charon said after a long silence. "Ti, I don't suppose you have any T-shirts that might fit? Something that's not too geeky?"

  "Sure. Pants, probably not. But shirts should work. And my T-shirts are all super-cool."

  "Of course they are. Just don't bring out any of the Muppets Star Wars ones. I think Az's pants are salvageable." Charon held out a hand to help Azeban up. "Let's go get you presentable for the librarian."

  When those long fingers closed over his, a tiny bit of warmth settled over Azeban's panicked, weary heart. Safe suddenly felt achievable with the ferryman holding his hand.

  They didn't often have visitors, but the guest bathroom was always ready and stocked, just in case. Charon left the raccoon god to his own devices, staring wide-eyed at the huge tub and shower surround, with instructions to set his clothes outside the door.

  The shower ran for a few minutes while Azeban seemed to be talking to it—or maybe talking to himself. The words weren't in any language Charon understood, but they sounded so heartbroken he had a difficult time moving away from the door.

  White knight. Surely not. His lordship was reading too far into simple acts of compassion. Charon had known Azeban for centuries, had found him mostly amusing, had occasionally engaged in verbal sparring. Of course he felt bad to see an acquaintance of long standing having a bad time of things.

  Compassion.

  I was never scared of you, Meggie had told him one evening as they read together. I know lots of people are.

  Oh? Why not you, little goth girl? Humans should be afraid of me. It's only natural.

  Because you're, you know. Nice. You care about stuff. People.

  He had shrugged. Maybe now. Scary's always been my default setting. I had to learn to care, and I'm very selective about it.

  Nobody's born with compassion. Meggie had given him that crooked/wise smile she had. Everyone's gotta learn it.

  Great Mother of Night, but he missed her.

  The shower had switched over to water running into the tub. Charon made a mental note to keep an ear open, since he hadn't thought to take into account how much raccoons like to play with water. Until it sounded dangerous to the flooring, he wouldn't interfere. Instead, he emptied Azeban's pockets—string, a packet of peanuts, several paperclips, a comb, a set of throwing knives, someone's empty leather wallet with a crane design, a set of multicolored juggling balls, some ancient hard candies, a pair of sunglasses… and his purloined cufflink, of course—and put the torn coat in the wash with Azeban's pants and socks.

  Charon had just moved to his bedroom with the clean laundry so he could repair the rip in the back of the coat when he realized it had been too quiet for far too long. He put his mending down and stalked to the bathroom on silent feet. Soft splashes came from within, so Azeban hadn't drowned, and at least they weren't the distressing kind of kersploosh that came when water slopped over onto the floor.

  Slowly, he turned the knob and opened the door without a sound so he wouldn't startle Azeban. The raccoon god sat in the tub amidst plateaus and canyons of bubbles. I forgot we even had bubble bath. Presiding over this shifting landscape, Azeban's expression was nearly comical in its serious concentration as he placed objects into the water—a ceramic soap dish, a shell from the decorative bowl on the sink, a bottle of lotion, and a cotton swab. He was about to add an electric razor to the items that were, according to their nature, floating or sinking in the bubble festooned water, when Charon intervened.

  "Az, that shouldn't go in the tub. If I'd known you needed bath toys, I would have sent Ti out for rubber duckies."

  Without looking up, Azeban placed the razor on the edge of the tub and held it there, apparently mesmerized by the floating and slowly drowning objects.

  "Is it too intrusive to ask what you're doing?"

  The answer came back in a murmur half-muffled by Azeban's dripping hair. "Seeing if stuff floats."

  Charon lifted an eyebrow. "You should be able to tell that without filling the tub with miniature shipwrecks."

  "Yeah. But I wanted to see how things sink."

  "I see." More or less. The whole exercise looked like brooding from Charon's angle. He snapped out an oversized bath sheet and held it out toward the tub by the top corners. "Come on out, oh lord of brambles and alleyways. Before the water turns cold."

  Azeban shivered as if already chilled, tiny ripples dashing away from his body to create tremors in the bubble mountain range. One hand on the lip of the tub to steady himself, he stepped out and turned his back so Charon could wrap him in terry cloth, but not before he'd had a chance to see the dark concentric rings like a bullseye on Azeban's backside.

  Ah. Gluskabe's marks. Even in human form, Azeban couldn't rid himself of the mask around his eyes or his tail rings, the marks the elder god had given him. They were punishment, branding the raccoon god as a thief for all to see after he'd tormented and stolen from two old blind men. Not one of Azeban's better moments, but the resulting markings on his beautifully sculpted butt were striking, the black rings lovely against his russet skin.

  Charon gave himself a mental shake when Azeban tugged at the corners of the bath sheet to wrap it around his body. His graceful-even-in-exhaustion flawless body. Embarrassed that he'd been staring, Charon took a bit of towel and ruffled the bulk of the water from Azeban's hair. The stirrings of attraction threw him off balance. Twinges in his chest worried him, though he knew better than to mistake it for sexual desire.

  Appreciate a beautiful body? Yes. Lust after it? No.

  This was something else though, and more than mere appreciation. White Knight Syndrome? What nonsense. No… Maybe he didn't know what desire felt like, since he'd never felt it—he never would—but there was a longing in his fingers, an ache in his arms he hadn't experienced in some years. Of all the times for him to develop his first serious crush.

  Charon had given him a red T-shirt with a yellow star on it, a pair of socks, a soft bathrobe, and a choice. He was welcome to nap in the guest bedroom, or he could come back out to the living room and sit with Ti and Charon while the ferryman did some mending. Azeban took the choice with company, since he couldn't deal with being alone with his guilt and fear.

  Curled up in a corner of the sofa with the comfort of soft voices bantering and mock-bickering back and forth, he dozed on and off. He could almost pull a delusion of sanctuary around himself, though the guilt of being safe and cared for while Kau suffered never faded.

  An instinctive rooting after warmth drove him to scoot closer to where Charon sat sewing, needle and thread dipping and rising in quick, neat stitches. The gaping hole in the back of Azeban's coat vanished bit by bit as if Charon's fingers could erase what Itzpapalotl had done. There was magic in such precision, fuck if there wasn't. Elegant in every movement, he even rethreaded a needle with arcane grace. Does he ever trip or drop shit? Probably not.

  Azeban was leaning close, snuggled against Charon's shoulder, when the door to Lord Hades' study opened again. He jerked back in shock as a fearful creature emerged, huge and horned like a bull, cloven hooves clacking on the hardwood.

  Its shoulders were nea
rly as broad as the doorframe. Its hands could've crushed Azeban's skull. Shaggy hair obscured most of its eyes. It wore… glasses?

  "Leander." Charon rose and accepted a gentle embrace from the beast. "That was fast."

  Ti leaped up to join the hug-fest, leaving Azeban in an anxious, isolated ball on the sofa. "How's things in Book Kingdom?"

  The creature—Leander—patted Ti's shoulder, then waved a hand in Azeban's direction. "The books are doing well. Is this, ah…"

  "Leander, this is Azeban." Charon swept an arm toward the sofa with a little bow. "I'm sure you've read about him."

  Leander nodded. "I did see Lord Azeban at one of Dio's concerts some time back."

  "Az, this is Leander Asterion, the librarian who cares for and curates the Eternal Library, and my young lord Dionysus's sweetheart."

  "Really? Dio's lover?" Azeban blurted out, his eyes traveling up that powerful body and back down to the bulge under the kilt before his brain kicked in. Dio was one lucky god. Slowly, he uncurled from the sofa and tried to dredge up a smile. The concern on Charon's face told him he'd missed by a few miles, so he gave up and settled for "Hi."

  Good one. Brilliant. His rattled nerves had seriously screwed with his charm, and now he'd obviously embarrassed the person who was supposed to be his new host. The horned head angled down, and while Azeban couldn't see his eyes behind the glasses and the fringe of hair, he'd be willing to bet they were focused on the librarian's hooves.

  A trampling stampede of small paws saved him from saying any more stupid things. A small horde of four-footed people—a wave of red, black, and white—rushed toward him, and Azeban couldn't help himself. He cried out Cousins! as he abruptly changed aspects, dropping to the carpet on all fours and emerging from the robe in raccoon form to greet the sleuth of red pandas. They snuffled and chirped in greeting, butting heads and rubbing against him. They smelled of paper and ink, of wood and leather, so these were library red pandas.

  His reaction made him cringe. He didn't need them to be there. He didn't need anyone, except maybe Kau. Definitely Kau. But the sudden appearance of almost-raccoons as companions had him trembling with relief.