Chapter 22

Chapter

Twenty-Two

P ersephone

I’m on pins and needles as we wait for the results of the scan. Herman offered to call with the results, but I’ve come this far. I’m not willing to walk away when I’m so close to the possibility of finally getting an answer for my madness.

Now, we sit in Herman’s office. It’s a moderately sized room with what looks like ancient comforts. There is nothing sleek and modern about the design of his space. Stone carved figurines of the ancient gods are placed throughout the room on shelves, as one might place photographs of family members. The suede couches sit on frames of carved wood with curling designs and walls of tomes, the spines cracked with age, have been squeezed into tightly packed shelves.

I can see where Hades gets his obsession with the ancient gods of myth. It’s clearly a family thing. I can only imagine how fanatical their parents are.

“Yes,” Herman says into the phone. “I’ll be right there.”

I watch as he disconnects, slipping the phone into his pocket as he rises from the chair behind his desk. He moves as though without a care to a large safe in the wall, inputting a massive pin before scanning the print of his hand, and then his eye. The mechanical system emits a faint hum, a few sharp clicks, and then opens to display a floor to ceiling shelf of coins. Yes, coins. Copper, silver, and gold coins glitter in the low light of the room, and I gape as I watch Herman select a single gold coin from the pile.

Minthe gasps, “A child.”

Herman closes the door, pocketing the coin. “The Moirai do not discriminate when they cut death’s thread.” He looks upset, the picture of a helpless man as his jaw clenches. “A quick passage is all I can ensure him as his soul works to find Charon.”

It takes a moment, but my mind makes sense of his words. “Wait.” Herman stops, his hand on the door. “You believe in the Underworld? That the dead need coins to cross the river?”

Herman’s eyes slide to me. “The Underworld is no less real than the realm we exist in now, Persephone. And a coin has always granted passage over the river Acheron.” His hand dips into his pocket, emerging with the gold coin. “Gold ensures a speedy, and often solitary crossing. One where Charon may even comfort the soul.”

“What if he’s going to Heaven and not the Underworld?”

His smile is knowing. “Is it not better to be safe than sorry? What harm is a little coin in the palm of the dead?”

I suppose there’s no harm in the ancient practice, so I say nothing. Herman dips his chin in a nod. “I’ll return soon. We should have your results then.”

The door falls closed behind him, and I feel my gaze drift to the now closed safe where I know a treasure of coins sits in wait for the dead. I can’t help but wonder at all the people I’ve met who believe, so completely, in the ancient gods. I can’t help but wonder, if they all believe in the impossible—maybe I’m not so crazy after all.

Minthe interrupts my thoughts, “I’ll never get used to the Fates cutting the life-thread of a child.” Her brows bunch together as emotion grips her in a frown. “It’s so ugly.”

I drag my eyes from the safe to Minthe. “How do you know it was a child?”

“Herman reserves the gold coins for them. They’re afraid enough—he wants their passage to be quick and executed with care.”

“The quality of passage changes with the type of coin?”

“Of course.” Minthe explains, “Gold is the elite package. A gold coin ensures the soul does not fight for a spot on the boat. The soul will find their way to the river’s edge with ease, as though knowing where they are meant to go, guided by the coin to Charon. A swift, safe, private, and compassionate voyage is expected. With a silver coin, the soul knows where they must go. There is a sense of urgency to carve a path between the coinless souls who must wait their turn in what feels like an endless line of coinless souls who must ride the river.” Her eyes dip. “Charon is not known for his grace, and his marsh is unkind to those who must cross without massage.” She sucks in breath. “Souls with silver coins travel in larger groups, but their souls hold a sense of peace that is similar to the souls who trade the gold coins for passage.”

“And Copper?” I ask, uncertain I wish to know.

“Souls possessing the copper coins run the risk that their coin be stolen from them by a soul with no coin at all. It takes them longer to arrive at the riverbed, and therefore their risk is much higher. Their passage is often slower, the boat weighed heavy with more souls.”

“That sounds unfair.”

“Life is unfair. ”

“But we’re not talking about life. We’re talking about death.”

“There is life after death, Persephone,” Minthe tells me. “There are trials in the Underworld just as there is in this realm of the living.”

A long moment of silence pulses between us. I can’t help but ask, “Do you really believe this? Does Herman? And Hades? Do you all really believe in the old Gods, and the Underworld, and—all of it?”

“I do.”

“Then why did it all fall to ruins?”

Her smile is pained. “I feel that is a question better suited for Hades.”

Swallowing the swell of frustration that bubbles inside my chest, I ask, “So, Herman just drops a coin into the palm of the dead who happen to find their way into his funeral home. What of everyone else who dies? Are they left to just—linger on the wrong side of the river Acheron?”

“You’re frustrated,” Minthe observes curiously.

“Yeah. None of this makes sense.”

“And yet you study ancient Greece.” She tips her head to the side. “But you don’t believe in it?”

“I believed—I believe that the ancient people—the civilization that crafted the myth of the Gods, were looking to fill their questions about life with answers. I believe they did that with stories of Gods. Of beings more powerful than they were.” I let my shoulders rise and fall. “That’s what sane people believe. ”

There is a moment where I’m confident a wave of sadness rises in her eyes before it’s washed away. “It’s true the old beliefs in the Gods have vastly declined, but there are still some who believe. Who worship and honor the Olympians.” She smiles softly, the curl of her lips barren of the typical charm I’ve come to expect from her. “There are those like Herman, who know the truth and serve humanity even in death. You asked about the other souls, the ones who die elsewhere. Herman owns more than this funeral home. In fact, his business is worldwide, his practice of securing the dead with coins for passage is practiced with commitment throughout his establishments. Yes, there are many who slip through the cracks, who will drift on the wrong side of the river Acheron, before finding their way across, but many are spared this fate because of Herman. Because he cares for the souls who move from this realm into the next.”

“This all sounds like a fantasy book.”

Minthe’s lips curl, that ever-present charm back. “Oh, but wouldn’t it make a fabulous story?”