Death. Eclipse. Moon. Sun. "Pack up the moon," Azeban blurted out. Mother of Waters, where did that come from?
"What was that?" Charon's eyes narrowed as he leaned closer again.
Damn it, damn it. How does that poem go? It was in that one movie. The guy recites it at his lover's funeral. Azeban closed his eyes to better recall the scene. "He was my North, my South, my East and West.… Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.… For nothing now can ever come to any good."
"Drivel," Set snarled. "Don't think to buy time with—"
Charon had his phone out and held up the hand not tapping at the screen. "Hold on. It sounds familiar." Both hands engaged in tapping, Charon progressed from soft hisses to hmm's of discovery. "It's a poem. I knew I'd heard it before."
"Ah yes." Set was on his phone now too. When did all the immortals get so techie? "Do you still have me in your contacts? We should be texting."
Thank all the waters Set was thinking again instead of being all ragey. Though Leander probably didn't allow fury storms in the library. Bad for the books. Both entities went silent as they communicated in texts and gestures—pointing at different parts of the library, Set shaking his head, Charon cocking his to the side—and back to texting.
Finally, Charon slid his phone back in the inside pocket of his suit jacket and held out his hand. "Come on, Az. Let's go for a little walk. Settle your nerves. Don't you have any pants stashed nearby?"
"Not, ah… not on this floor," Azeban forced out in a shaky murmur.
He used the shelves to steady himself as he rose, unaccustomed to feeling vulnerable naked. The vulnerability only intensified as Charon's clawed hand closed around his. It was a friendly gesture—gentle—but the warmth he'd felt before from Charon was gone. Azeban's heart dragged behind him, several feet back, it was so heavy. They hadn't gone four steps before Darcy galumphed up, tripping and stumbling over material as he dragged Azeban's sweatpants down the aisle.
"Thank you, cousin," Azeban murmured. "Don't know how you knew. But thanks."
He pulled the pants on and tied them so they wouldn't slide right off his ass. When Charon grasped his hand again, he knew it was so he wouldn't run. Normally, he would've been annoyed over someone trying to control where he went, but he stared at his feet instead of trying to pull away. All he felt was shame.
"It's hard to be without Kau, isn't it?" Charon's tone might have held some hint of empathy, or Azeban was starting to slide into wishful thinking. "You miss him terribly, so you thought of that poem."
What? No, that isn't… Oh. "Yes." Azeban glanced up at Charon for some hint, though the implication was clear. The ferryman was trying to help him say things without saying them. "I haven't been without him for so long. I was—curled up and unhappy when I thought of the poem."
Lying in code. This is a new thing that should've been fun. I'm not having fun.
Set, strolling behind them with his hands clasped at his back, joined in. "So sorry to hear. I do hope it was a good place for it. So many excellent spots for sorrow here."
"It was a good spot." Azeban stopped and risked a glance up at Charon. Would that be enough? Would the eclipse maps still be laid out on the table? Char and Set were both hellishly smart. Would they figure it out? He jerked his head toward the turn they'd have to take to go back to the alcove.
Charon gave him a short nod, and though he still gripped Azeban's hand tight, he let him lead. Through the turnings, Azeban kept whispering, "Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun…" over and over, as if somehow the repetition might help.
When they reached the alcove, Charon patted his hand as if to say, Enough, I get it before he began a slow walk around the space. Set did the same, both their heads up, sniffing. Neither took long, Set's upper lip curling in disgust when he reached the chair in which Eris had been sitting. Chaos lord and Chaos child nodded to each other, then Charon seized Azeban's wrist in one hand and Set's in the other. Azeban didn't even have time to gasp before he was 'ported to Lord Hade's study.
"I thought you couldn't do that in here," Set grumbled.
"Within the library, yes. Into the library, no." Charon pulled Azeban down onto the largest sofa in the center of the room while Set took the neighboring armchair. Phones out, they began texting again. Charon turned the phone to show Azeban what he'd sent.
Itzpapalotl, Unhcegila, Eris?
"Yes," Azeban said, then clapped both hands over his mouth. He watched as a text came in from Set.
Give him your phone. Let him type.
Charon held the phone out and mouthed, Can you?
Despite drowning in fear, heartache, and guilt, Azeban still gave him a hard side eye and snatched the phone. Laboriously, with the tip of his tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth, he typed out, Hears me. Don't think sees. If she did, Itz would've been able to find immediately him no matter where he was. She did always find him eventually, but that had to be with the help of night creatures and a general idea from the sounds around him. He had to take her at her word that she would know if he said anything. The risk was too great to disbelieve her. And Itz? She wasn't keen on lying.
Set's forked tail twitched beside his expensive shoes as he typed. His message came up with a little sha animal hieroglyph instead of a picture, which worked, since it was kind of a picture of him. One of the three from the map alcove, this person who hears you?
Azeban nodded. He couldn't quite bring himself to type her name, just in case. He wasn't sure he could spell her name.
With a gentle tug, Charon took his phone back, though he held it so Azeban could still see. The eclipse charts. Has to be the butterfly.
Blip. The sha animal popped up again with, Agreed. Lost companion would be with her. Proposal?
Thinking. We need a secure place for meeting. And possibly a cabal.
Set raised his head from his phone, sharp teeth glinting in a feral smile. "A cabal of extraordinary immortals?"
"This is no ordinary problem," Charon said as a non-answer.
"And here I thought the day would be deadly boring when I reached the office this morning." Set stood and checked his pocket watch. "I'll be in touch."
One moment Set stood there; the next he'd vanished. Parlor tricks, Azeban was pretty sure, and not real 'porting like Charon did but still unnerving when he suddenly appeared somewhere.
"You, little trash panda, are not leaving my sight," Charon said when the Chaos god had gone.
Azeban sank into the cushions with a sigh. "I wish you wouldn't call me that."
"Right now, my lord suffers in terrible pain because of what you have done." Charon never raised his voice, but the arctic chill was back. Azeban found that hurt as much as losing Kau. "I'm afraid I'm not terribly fond of the sight of you right now."
"Char… I'm sorry. Really sorry."
"Hmm. I believe you are. It doesn't help much right now." Charon rose and waved to the door that led back out of the library realm. "Let's go. The time to keep you all wrapped up in bubble wrap is over."
Azeban cringed. "I have to get my coat."
"Someone will fetch your things. We're going to the condo so you can see some of what you've done, and then we're going sit there uncomfortably and wait."
"Okay." Azeban went back to staring at his feet and followed Charon back into the condo.
He wanted to say things. It's not my fault. I didn't want to. This is horrible for me too, you know. But all of his usual justifications sounded wrong even in his own head, so he settled for trying not to cry.
That didn't get any easier when Charon pulled him down the hall in the condo and into his lordship's bedroom. Lord Hades lay propped up on pillows, his breathing harsh and uneven. His always-pale complexion had faded to a dust gray. Cerberus, so fierce and terrifying in the cave, sat at the bedside, all three heads settled along Hades' leg, and Nike lay snuggled beside him. Ti—oh gods, Ti—lay on the other side, nearly as pale as his immortal lover, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy.
"How
is he?" Charon asked softly with a hand on Ti's shoulder.
"He's not good." Ti pulled in a huge sniff. "They said—Hestia and everyone who's been in to help—they said there's nothing they can do. Char, what's happening here?"
"The pathways to human death have been sealed off. All except one, I suspect, and that one isn't my lord's domain."
"Can't you fix it?" Ti sat up, his eyes searching Charon's face. "Char? Someone can fix it, right?"
"We're working on it. Do you need anything?"
"No. No, I'm good for now. Probably need the electric blanket before too long though."
One more pat, and Charon moved away from the bed. "All right. I'll feed the dogs in a bit. Try not to worry too much."
He nudged Azeban back into the hall and closed the door, leaning against the wood with his eyes squeezed shut.
"Char…" Azeban couldn't stand it any longer. He flung his arms around Charon's ribs and held on tight, even though Charon went rigid. "I'm so sorry. Mother of Waters, I'm so sorry. I wish—but I can't—for once though, if I could."
Clawed hands gripped his shoulders, and Azeban was sure he was going to be shoved away. Instead, Charon sighed and combed a claw through the tangle of Azeban's hair. They stood that way for a few moments, Azeban daring to draw comfort where he didn't deserve any. His heart started to hammer again when Charon stiffened and seized his hand, dragging him to the kitchen. Azeban's jumpy brain was certain he was going for the knives—no, a notepad and pen. Charon held up a finger to ask for patience and wrote:
I know it's more complicated than you pulling some idiotic prank. Believe that I do understand that. But it's still your little paws all over this. I can't just absolve you, though I do think you'd undo it if you felt you could. Hostage situation aside, could you undo it?
Azeban shook his head miserably and took the offered pen to write: Only That person can.
Right. Measures would have been taken. Of course. Charon picked up the pad, tucked Azeban under his arm, and walked them out to the living room, where he continued writing at the coffee table. You knew you were in trouble before things went really bad. I wish you'd told me. Maybe you were scared, but we could have prevented all this nonsense.
Azeban flopped onto the floor by the coffee table, leaning over the edge to write. I know you probably don't think so. But I think things might've been even worse if I told you.
Charon sat back carefully, as if his bones hurt. He tugged on Azeban's arm until he scooted over, and he realized it was an invitation to rest his head on Charon's thigh. A long arm snaked around Azeban to write: Perhaps. If we're talking about immortal warfare, then perhaps. I'm not sure that scenario is at all better than this one.
So you're not going to kill me? The claws stroking Azeban's hair were almost soothing enough to calm his shivering.
"Not right this second." Charon put his head back, maybe to rest. He had looked tired. "Sit tight, little one. We'll find a way through this."
At least they'd moved away from trash panda. That had to be good, right?
When the text finally came, Set sent an address and nothing else. Charon looked it up and recognized it as a building Set owned in New York, one he'd visited.
Leander had brought Azeban's belongings back from the library, the request relayed by red panda messenger service, so Az was dressed again in his coat of many pockets. He didn't look any happier, but he seemed steadier, less likely to fall apart if someone looked at him the wrong way.
"Are you up for another trip through the dark?" Charon asked as he rose from the sofa and offered his hand.
"Not my favorite way to go, but, hey. At least it's fast."
Charon flashed them to the lobby of Set's high-rise in Manhattan, an eerie, dimly lit space, since the building had few tenants these days. It had been home to one of Set's less-savory enterprises, one that Charon had to oppose with every weapon in his arsenal. Set was an odd creature though. That particular scheme had fallen through, and he'd moved on to other things, so the grudges and alliances he'd had at the time had all shifted.
He wasn't concerned about Azeban bolting any longer. The little god stuck to his side as if he'd been velcroed there, though his skittishness hadn't calmed at all. He sniffed the air constantly and startled at any shifting shadow.
No lights were on in the elevator bay, the few remaining plants withering in the dim light from the lobby. Charon ushered his charge into the first open elevator and pushed the button for the thirteenth floor.
Azeban cleared his throat. "I thought human buildings always skipped thirteen."
"Usually. Though this is Set's building, built to his specifications." Charon got them out of the elevator on thirteen, took the nearby stairs two flights up, and wound his way through the halls to a second elevator bank. Here they took the elevator up to twenty-seven.
"Does it mean something? Twenty-seven?"
Charon shrugged. "Possibly. If it were anyone else, I'd say three times nine is a very powerful number. But it's Set, so don't read too much into it."
Finally, they arrived at the conference room Set had specified, a large affair with a spectacular view and an oblong table that had seen better days. More than one set of claws had scored the top in frustration or menace. A tall male with a lopsided grin and shaggy hair not unlike Azeban's was playing catch with a sharp-featured man with piercing blue eyes. Charon sighed inwardly but didn't react to the object of the game being a fist-sized fireball.
Set occupied the head of the table in brooding mode as he stared out the window.
"Az!" Blue eyes caught the fireball and made it vanish with a flick of his fingers before he hurried over and caught Azeban up in a bone-crushing hug. "I'd say you're a sight for sore eyes, but you're just a sight. You look terrible."
"Gee, thanks." Azeban rolled his eyes, the most relaxed expression he'd managed all day. "Hey, Loki. Hey, Coyote."
"That is the cause of all of this." Set pointed at Az without turning to look at them. "I would be more cautious who I claim as friend just now."
"What's the skeleton doing here?" Coyote stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and strolled toward them.
"The ferryman is here at my invitation. He has been conducting investigations into the current matter."
"Right, right." Coyote grinned, rocking from heel to toe. "Old Sourpuss's new business. How's that going?"
"Quite well, thank you." Charon returned the grin, though he knew it looked more like baring his sharp teeth. "Though this is out of our normal range of services, and my lord is in no condition to assist."
Coyote raised a thick eyebrow at that, smart enough to realize they were talking around things right now. He opened his mouth to say something, then twitched as a giant black spider the size of a small pony skittered into the room. Any shock vanished into a grin as Coyote sauntered over to give the spider's right foreclaw a high five.
"Anansi." Set nodded to the arachnid, who blurred and became a heartbreakingly handsome man with his hair in several thick, ropey braids.
"Lord Set." Anansi put a hand over his heart for an ironic bow. "Is this all of us?"
"Oh hell, no." A woman close to Charon's height breezed in, her combat boots ringing on the uncarpeted portions of the floor, her leather trench coat billowing behind her. "You can't get a party started without me." She stopped to take Anansi's hand and kiss his cheek. "Hey, sweet spider."
"Check your pockets," Loki said from where he leaned against the windows. "Laverna probably has your wallet."
"Please." Laverna huffed a breath as she flung herself into a chair and propped her boots on the table. "Like everyone in this room isn't a world-class thief. Except you, Char. Didn't expect you here."
"The ferryman has stolen a thing or two in his time," Set countered at his driest.
"Rescued." Charon gave him a nod. "Not quite the same."
A breeze started up in the conference room and quickly evolved to a whirlwind. Discarded papers and old plant leaves whirled and
smacked into the unwary. Somewhere behind the wind, a voice shouted, "Hang onto it! Don't just hurl the door open!"
A blob of light erupted in the air beside the conference table. The wind escalated into a howling tempest. A crack of displaced air knifed through the wind's screaming, and two figures tumbled out of the light blob onto the floor.
"Hey! Sorry for the entrance." Hermes bounced to his feet with a smile for his astounded audience. He reached down to help his little brother up from his heap on the floor. "Dio wanted to practice the dimensional-door thing."
"Now we've all arrived…" Set rose from his chair as if it were a throne and pointed at Azeban. "That can't be here for discussions."
Charon bristled and put a hand on Azeban's shoulder. He should have been furious with the little walking disaster, but the surge of anger was protective instead, directed at Az being referred to as a thing. "Agreed. But leaving him on his own isn't something I'm willing to do right now."
"What are you two even talking about?" Laverna managed side eyes in both directions.
Coyote pulled a flute from his jacket pocket. "Seriously? None of you have minions for these things? I'll call some of mine."
"No!" Azeban squeaked out. "No coyotes. Please."
"Too much like dogs?" Charon asked softly.
Azeban blinked up at him as if he couldn't quite process the words. Maybe it was the sympathy he couldn't process. "Yeah."
"Come on, Az. We'll go sit in another room." Dio strode over to take Azeban's hand. "They don't want me here for discussions, and I'll probably get bored and fall asleep anyway."
"I'll just volunteer you for everything, okay?" Hermes called after them and laughed when Dio gave him the finger without turning around.
The door shut. Six gods and a Chaos demon stared at each other for a long, strange moment.
Charon finally broke the silence. "Are we secure here?"
Set nodded and resumed his seat. "We are, with the raccoon out of earshot. How she's overhearing his conversations, I haven't pieced together yet. But he clearly believes she is."
Brandywine Investigations Page 34
