Brandywine Investigations

by Angel Martinez

  It was done, the soul netting gathered at the center of the dance and unraveling, the threads drifting out into the winds rushing past them. They danced too fast now, the beat wild and racing at ever-greater tempos. It was breathtaking and glorious, but there was no coming back. They would spin into oblivion, individual atoms scattered to the far reaches of the universe.

  From somewhere in their core came a forceful cry—Ha!—and a sharp clapping of hands. The dance shattered into frost-flower shards and broken reflections of memory, all hurled out into the vast, empty dark.

  They had hurried from hospital to hospital, first on the Delmarva Peninsula, then up the coast to New York and New Jersey. Where another soul guide labored, they moved on, but between Charon and Jason, they chivvied several hundred souls on toward their next stage. The air felt lighter, as if all the trapped souls had pressed down on the world, and while most probably would have found their way without help, Charon felt compelled to make certain as many crossed over as quickly as possible. The fabric of existence had been stretched too thin—the faster the repair work concluded, the better.

  In Mt. Sinai Hospital's ICU, Jason's ghostly image began to waver. "Mr. Stygian?"

  "Go." Charon gripped his shoulder tight. "Thank you for all your help and your insight. But it's time, Jason. You have to go."

  "But—"

  "You've done all you can. It wasn't even your job." Charon faltered, thinking hard. "What was your job?"

  "I was a gravedigger."

  "Stop it."

  Jason gave him a crooked smile. "Couldn't resist messing with you. Nah, I worked in a department store. Not the best job, but—oh."

  "Oh?"

  "It's back. The light. The same one that vanished after my funeral." Jason's expression was equal parts joy and wonder. "Oh. Wow."

  Charon gave him a little push, whispering, "Go. You're free."

  Golden light wrapped around Jason as he stepped forward and winked out as he vanished. Getting to know and like humans was absurdly hard sometimes. They always left far too soon. Charon swiped the heels of his hands beneath his eyes. He wasn't crying, for all the holy waters’ sakes. The hospital chemicals were getting to him.

  Just as he'd recovered his composure, the hardest wall of force yet slammed into him, slapping him against the nearest wall. And he knew. Great Mother of us all. I can feel the Styx again. I can—

  "My lord!" He stumbled forward two steps and 'ported back to the condo, directly into Lord Hades' bedroom.

  Ti lifted his tousled head from the pillows. "Char… wha?"

  "Up, up, all of you!" Charon gesticulated wildly, startling the dogs from the bed. "Give him to me! Goddesses of night, tell me he's still breathing."

  "He's… yeah. Barely." Ti's voice shook and cracked. "What's going on?"

  "I need to take him. Now. I have to—gah!" Charon ripped the blankets off and shoved Ti out of the way. He'd apologize later. "We're going. I'll be back."

  He'd explain later too. Tired as he was, he still managed to heave Lord Hades into his arms and 'port out with him. The husk-light weight in his arms nearly made him break down and sob. But it couldn't be too late. Not after everything.

  Charon aimed directly for Lord Hades' bedroom in his Underworld palace. There at the heart of his domain, he would stand the best chance. Gently, as if he held glass fibers, Charon laid his lordship on the bed.

  "I need to go back for Ti. Poor human's probably having fits. The pups too. But it worked. The raccoon fixed it. Possibly with some assistance. We've done all we could." Charon eased down on the edge of the bed and took Lord Hades' chilled, dry hand. "I don't… I can't… Please say it was enough, my lord. Please."

  He didn't expect an answer, and none came. No movement. No recognition. The pain in his chest was so sharp Charon thought he might be dying. Maybe he would if his lordship faded away. Their lives had been so inextricably entwined for so many centuries. It couldn't happen this way though. Not now. Now when Charon wanted so desperately to go back to Azeban. Now when he had started something… a relationship… having fallen so hard.

  "Why the tears, old friend?"

  The spare whisper came from beside Charon, and he dared open his eyes to find Lord Hades regarding him with concern. He shook his head, unable to speak, and gathered his lordship up for a shuddering hug.

  "Is Tiberius all right?"

  "He will be, my lord." Charon sat back and managed a strangled chuckle at Lord Hades' flummoxed expression. "I'll be right back. And Ti will explain. Because I think I'm not finished for the day."

  Lord Hades gave him that thundercloud look with narrowed eyes and lowered brows. Charon just grinned and patted him on the shoulder. "Good to have you back, my lord."

  He 'ported out once for Ti, who hadn't quite had time to work himself into a proper fit, went back for Cerberus and Nike, then left them all comfortably snuggled in the huge ironwood bed and blinked out to the mountains of western Mexico.

  Raccoon hunting.

  Snow. The white flakes falling were snow. But something seemed wrong about the angle. They fell straight on cheeks and eyelashes. There wasn't enough wind for snow to be blowing sideways. What was he—

  He. Individual. Not part of a glorious collective dance. The realization smacked him in the face at the same moment he recalled his name. Azeban slowly pieced together that he lay on his back in the snow, staring up at the sun coming up over the edge of a rock face. The bowl at the top of Cerro Mohinora, the doorway to Tamoanchan. There were voices nearby—muffled, hesitant—and there was weeping. Part of him wanted to know what was going on. The other part reminded him he was having trouble figuring out how to move his arms and legs.

  "Az? All right there?"

  A familiar face, a familiar beloved face, appeared above him. Charon's black eyes had bruised, puffy circles underneath, as if he'd been crying too. But that couldn't be, could it?

  Azeban moved his jaw. It worked. He tried to convince his mouth to say several dozen things, but all that came out was, "Cold."

  "That's what happens when you nap in the snow, silly raccoon."

  Charon wrapped him up in his arms, hugging so hard Azeban thought he heard bones creaking. He didn't mind, though he couldn't quite hug back yet.

  "Warm," he murmured, rooting his face under Charon's jacket lapel. So toasty warm.

  "No more." Charon's voice trembled as he rocked them slowly. "My heart can't take any more today. You looked a little too close to dead when I spotted you lying here."

  "Sorry."

  Caw! Cawcawcaw!

  "He's fine, Kau. I think."

  A flurry of black feathers announced Kau, who proceeded to scold about how long he'd been left alone in the snow. Azeban wanted to call bullshit—Leander had been with him—but wording was just so hard. He turned his head to survey their surroundings—goddesses everywhere, sitting isolated, embracing, conversing in soft voices, and some, yes, in tears.

  "Oof." Hestia flumped down beside them in an unladylike fashion. "That was interesting. Are you boys quite well? Charon, is my brother…?"

  Charon pulled in a slow, shuddering breath. "He's recovering, my lady. In his own domain. We were in time. But I seem to have missed all the fireworks here."

  "Itz," Azeban managed as he got one hand under Charon's jacket. "How's she?"

  "Taking it quite badly for now." Hestia nodded across the bowl to where Itzpapalotl stood sobbing in Uzume's arms. "I understand her fury and her desire for change. I can't imagine a goddess who doesn't. If she'd come to talk to us instead of isolating herself and growing angrier and more bitter by the year…" She shook her head. "One or more of us will stay with her. Show her the world is changing. Slowly, but the human world always does. We'll encourage her to attend goddess conferences, get—"

  "There's goddess cnfrces?" Azeban's tongue couldn't quite unfreeze for words of more than two syllables.

  "Yes, dear. There have been for some time, but they've become more frequent in the last few
years. There are ways to influence events that don't involve tearing at the fabric of reality." Hestia's forehead crinkled in obvious distress. "We need to include isolated goddesses more actively though. Not in quite such intense rites as the goddess dance. This one nearly consumed us all. But in conversation, in sharing information. We need to do better."

  "But she kidnapped Kaukont. Assaulted Azeban and blackmailed him into something so wrong he was sure all the gods would rip him to shreds for it. One nearly did. She trapped scores and scores of human souls on this plane, left them to suffer. Nearly caused my lord to fade into nothingness." A growl underlay Charon's voice even as it broke and wavered, and Azeban nuzzled at him, trying to calm his growing fury. It seemed to help, since Char stopped growling and started stroking Azeban's hair.

  "She did terrible things. Many of us have done terrible things. Look at my younger brothers and all the harm they've caused." Hestia heaved a long sigh. "I'm sorry she hurt you and Kau, Azeban. And used your reputation to try to shift blame. As for Hades, better let him speak for himself, my dear. Once Itz has had some time and some better advice, she may well wish to make amends where it's appropriate. We'll discuss that as well. My hope is that she never takes advice from Eris again, as a first step."

  "Wha—what happened to Eris?" Azeban spoke slowly and carefully, pleased when the words all came out right.

  Hestia flapped a hand. "Long gone, that one. And good riddance. I think she knows she's fallen out of favor even with other Chaos gods."

  "I'd happily deliver her to Set myself," Charon said with a snort.

  "S'what she is." Azeban shrugged. Ooh, a shrug! "Won't change."

  "No, she won't." Hestia gathered her skirts and rose, dusting the snow off her divine butt. "But we can be on our guard against her."

  Azeban squirmed around to watch her walk over to Itzpapalotl and join the growing conversation around her. Nearby, Leander was heaving Dio over his shoulder and waving to the scarlet dragon circling overhead. Good to see too.

  "Too early to ask?" Azeban turned back to Charon and clutched at the front of his shirt with both hands.

  "Ask what, Az?"

  "If I'm for… givn?"

  "Hmm." Charon slid his arms under Azeban and lifted him, which was great, getting off the frozen ground and all. "I might be able to forgive you for everything except one item."

  "Wazzat?"

  "You ate the last ice cream sandwich in the freezer."

  "Don't say ice cream right now, 'K?" Azeban shivered. "I'll buy you more."

  "You better." Charon walked to an empty spot of ground, waited until Kau had landed on his shoulder, and 'ported them back to the condo, which was gloriously warm and quiet. "I'm so glad you're all right, and when you're warm, rested, and fed until you're stuffed, you can tell me how you saved the world, and I'll tell you how very brave and clever you are."

  "I love how you know me so well," Azeban said through chattering teeth as Charon helped him out of his wet coat.

  Charon stood with the tattered coat folded over his arm for such a long moment, regarding Azeban with an odd expression, that he started to wonder what he'd said wrong. When Charon finally spoke, his voice was soft and uncertain. "I love you too, Az."

  "Do you?" Azeban forced himself to close his mouth, his heart hammering so hard he thought it was going off the rails. This couldn't… there was no way…" I mean, I do love you, but—"

  "No. No buts." Charon draped the coat over the nearest chair and wrapped Azeban back in his arms. "We'll solve whatever the questions are. Doesn't have to be today or tomorrow. But I'm in love with Azeban the Brave and Clever. Surely between the two of us, we'll figure out how this can work."

  And in that moment, snuggled in Charon's embrace, Azeban began to feel more like himself than he had in weeks. "I think I'd like to start with bravely and cleverly taking a hot bath."

  "I'll be happy to be your very personal assistant today, since my regular employer has left the premises."

  Azeban accepted an arm as they made their way slowly to the guest bath. "Just… don't start calling me my lord, Char. That would be all sorts of weird."

  Charon 'ported into his office at Stygian Funeral with a deep breath, as much relief as the expansion of a chest that had been far too tight for too long. He'd tucked Azeban into bed and had left his raccoon snoring away, a note on the nightstand explaining that Charon needed to check in at work. Lord Hermes had texted at some point that the missing-child case had been resolved and that he was going to the Underworld to tell his uncle so Lord Hades would be relieved as well.

  Not at all surprising that Charon's voice mail had blown up with messages from Yvonne and Vincent about clients coming in too fast. Charon called several retired embalmers he knew and manned the front desk himself, fielding calls and directing arrangements. Good thing he was an organized Chaos demon. That, and it was high time he found a competent front-office person to replace Gio, who had never returned.

  Several hours past normal closing, Charon finally hung his suit jacket on the coat stand and strode back to Yvonne's domain. "How are we doing back here?"

  Yvonne bent her head to scratch her nose against the shoulder of her lab coat. "Just about there, Boss. Though without the extra hands, we'd still be four deep and looking at finishing sometime tomorrow. That was a stroke of genius. How's things up front?"

  "Not as bad as they could have been. All things considered."

  Vincent had been watching the exchange with huge eyes, obviously waiting to say something. Finally, he burst out, "Death was really broken?"

  "Yvonne." Charon gave his embalmer a hard side-eye. "You didn't."

  She shrugged, not at all repentant. "Vincent's a good kid. I say we keep him. Besides, he knew you weren't a regular old funeral director."

  "I'm not stupid," Vincent muttered as he carefully replaced chemicals on the shelves. "And I'm right here."

  "Hmm." Charon sniffed in pretended annoyance. He had concluded that Vincent needed to know who his boss really was. "Next time, ask before you give away all my secrets, please. To answer your rather abrupt question, yes. Death was really broken. It's fixed now, though I suppose that much is obvious."

  "You think?"

  He threw a towel at Yvonne, which she deflected without even looking up.

  "I have a last appointment on the calendar this evening with someone named Shelby." Charon leaned against the back counter, forcing himself not to run his hands over his face. "I'm not ashamed to say I'm tired and haven't been able to figure out what that means."

  "Oh." Vincent's pale complexion gradually suffused with scarlet. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Stygian. That's the one receptionist interview we have so far. We were so busy, and I didn't get a last name. She came from a reference from Domestica in New York. Yvonne said it should be okay to set it up."

  Charon forced his eyebrows back down. How had Lady Hestia had time to find out he needed a receptionist and send one to him already? "Ah. Very good. Yes, I'll see—her? Him?"

  "Not sure, Boss. All we got was Shelby."

  "All right, then. I'll see Shelby, and then I'm heading out. Don't you two stay much longer."

  By the time Charon had returned to the front desk and retrieved his jacket, a young person had walked through the front door.

  "Shelby?"

  "Yes, um, hi. Mr. Stygian?" Shelby seemed uncertain whether to offer a hand or the folder that most likely contained a résumé first. Well-tailored black dress pants, a white button-down, and a black jacket, the clothes gave Charon no definite pronoun clues. A silver spider clip held back Shelby's hair, and the makeup had an unmistakable Goth aesthetic.

  Charon held out a hand to prevent any further fumbling. "Yes. Please have a seat. I hear Domestica sent you? Bit of a hike from New York."

  "Yes, sir. My mom's on her own now, which makes me a little nervous. So I moved back home. I've done some work for Domestica, but my last job was with Dionysian Corp."

  Charon took a moment to look over th
e paperwork, which included a glowing, scrupulously professional reference from Lady Hestia and a somewhat less formal one from Lord Dionysus, which boiled down to Shelby's awesome. "You know who I am, then, don't you?"

  Shelby offered a nervous smile. "I do. Hope that's all right. I was a Maenad when I was a kid."

  "Certainly simplifies things. If you don't mind my asking, do you have a preferred pronoun?"

  "They, please."

  "All right, then. The situation is rather urgent." Charon closed the folder. "Can you start tomorrow?"

  "Yes, sir. Not a problem."

  "It's Karl here in the office. Vincent can't get past Mr. Stygian, but we make allowances for good assistant embalmers." Charon glanced up to find Shelby beaming at him. "By the way, would you have any interest in a book club?"

  * * *

  It wasn't late by most human standards by the time Charon got home, but he was bone-tired and the ten p.m. on the kitchen clock might as well have read forever-thirty. He leaned against the counter with both hands, debating whether he wanted something to eat, a nagging itch in his brain as if he'd forgotten something.

  "Ah. Of course."

  He hadn't made dinner for anyone, since Lord Hades, Ti, and the pups would be well-looked after at the palace, and Azeban had crashed so completely it could well have been called hibernation. It had been some time since he'd had no one to feed. Even when his lordship and Ti went out, Charon still took care of Nike's dinners. He pushed back from the counter, concluding that he wasn't hungry enough to scrape something together for himself either.

  Bed. Bed is good. Before my brain shuts down entirely. Charon pushed off the counter and slogged to the bedroom, using the light from the hall to dress for bed rather than disturbing Az by turning on the bedside lamp. His raccoon had curled up in the center of the bed, ridiculously adorable in one of Charon's flannel pajama shirts with the sleeves rolled up. He'd still been so cold when Charon had put him to bed, and it was the best he could do, since Az had balked at the mention of wearing pants to sleep.