47

47

The Ferryman

Before I can ask another question, a boat appears at the end of the dock out of nowhere, and by that I mean it wasn’t there, and now it is. No slowly-rowing-across-the-river bullshit. And no tiny boat that seats ten or fewer people. This thing is as big as a pirate ship and similarly styled.

A gangplank drops down to the dock with a thud I can feel from here, and people start walking out. Dazed-looking people who are… I stare a little harder as they near where I’m lying. Yup. They are see-through.

Dead souls. I’m looking at freaking dead souls.

Cerberus moves off the dock to the shore, allowing them room to pass, and several give him wary, wide-eyed stares and an even wider berth, but he just stands there, Rus panting. The souls don’t look at me at all, like I don’t even exist.

They walk onto shore and up to a series of steps that seem to disappear into the cavern wall. The first to reach the steps stops until all of them are lined up, and I can’t help but laugh. “I guess you have to wait in line even when you’re dead.”

Then the soul in the lead climbs to the top, and the moment she touches the cavern wall, a crack in what I thought was solid stone opens up with a grinding of rock on rock, revealing a gated entrance with traditional Greek fluted columns to each side and scrolling carvings across the top. And beyond…

I can’t help the gasp that escapes me.

It feels like I’ve been gasping a lot lately, but I’m only mortal, after all.

Besides, the view is worthy of a gasp.

Because beyond, even still seated where I am, I can see the beginnings of the Underworld, and it’s nothing like I imagined. Stairs—lots and lots of stairs—lead up a mountainside into a world that isn’t fire and brimstone. Not here, at least. Here is…enchanted.

Against what looks like a night sky but is really a cavern roof thousands of feet above, everything glows—the same as the river and the ceiling where I am, only more intensely. It’s all blues and purples and greens and whites and pinks. There are flowers, trees, and vines, and pathways lead up into mountains a thousand times more magnificent than Olympus.

I catch only the barest glimpse from where I am, but that’s all I need to know why Hades doesn’t live with the other gods. Why he prefers to stay here.

“It’s so…” I can’t find the right word. “Why did Persephone hate it here?”

“She didn’t.”

I whip around to find a man standing at my feet and have to tip my head back to see all of him.

This can’t be Charon. Can it?

He’s…really hot.

I mean, not like Hades. But this being who is described as all things hideous is anything but. Tall and lean, he has sandy-brown hair that looks almost blond against fawn-colored skin and laughing eyes somewhere between blue and green. He’s not the brooding kind of handsome I’d expect, given the “Ferryman of the Dead” title and all. Instead, he comes off as…approachable…with kind eyes and the type of open face that invites you to grab a beer and have a chat.

He tips his head with a warm smile that makes me want to smile back. “I’ve been curious about you, Lyra Keres.”

“Um…same.” I shake the hand he offers, but I can’t make myself get to my feet. I’m still too wiped from my bodysurfing experience.

He must see that, because he drops down to sit by me, resting his wrists on his raised knees. Which is when I notice that he’s wearing jeans like Hades does. Jeans and a light-green boatneck button-down that’s otherwise plain.

“I have a feeling Hades will be here soon to fetch you,” he says.

“I doubt that. He has no idea I fell in that damn waterfall to begin with.”

Charon’s lips pull into a big grin. “Cerberus told me about that.”

“He—” I turn to look up at the hound. “When?”

“Just now.”

I turn back to find the ferryman studying me with open interest. “I can see what he sees in you.”

“Sorry?”

“Hades. You’re fearless in a way he would…admire.”

I lean back slightly. “It’s not fearlessness. It’s poor judgment and an appalling lack of filter.” And a lifetime of getting through it on my own. “And judging by how much he yells at me about those particular traits, I’m not sure you know Hades as well as you think you do.”

Charon laughs. “I do. Since I don’t have much time, I need to tell you a few things quickly. Okay?”

Seriously? “How could a person with any sense of curiosity refuse an offer like that?” I prop my elbows on my knees.

His eyes twinkle. “First, a question. Why didn’t you use one of the pearls when you were in the river?”

It takes effort to maintain a neutral expression. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Persephone’s pomegranate seeds.” He cuts me off like he doesn’t have time for a game of who knows what and is willing to admit it. “Hades can’t tell you about them because it’s interfering, but I’m not restricted by that, since I’m not an Olympian god.”

I stop trying to pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. “They’re in my vest, and I was busy drowning.”

His expression is that of a disappointed schoolteacher. “Don’t make that mistake again. They will take you anywhere you want to go.”

I blink. “I thought they’d only bring me here?”

Charon shakes his head. “Picture the destination clearly in your mind—a place or a person, either will do—then swallow one pearl.”

Could I use them to go back to the Overworld? Not that there’s anywhere I could hide there.

“Use them only if you have no other option,” Charon warns, like he could read my thoughts. “You’re already in trouble with relics.”

That much, I’m well aware of.

Charon leans closer. “You’ll be punished if the Daemones even discover you have those. I mean it. Only if you have no other option.”

Hades didn’t tell me that bit. “Okay.”

He frowns at me. I stare back.

“What’s the other thing?” I ask to break the awkwardness.

Charon tips his head, searching my expression like he’s trying to determine if he should tell me or not. “Hades values loyalty above all else.”

“Loyalty.” I glance away, letting my gaze skate over the fluorescing waters and ceiling. Loyalty sounds like Hades.

“He doesn’t give his trust easily.” That has the tone of a warning. “He’s had two friends in his entire existence, and one of them is me.”

“Three.” All of Cerberus’ heads correct Charon in unison.

Charon flicks the dog an amused glance. “Three.” He gives Cerberus’ paw a pat, and the hellhound snorts a small flame out of Ber’s nostrils but relaxes.

I notice through all this that Charon doesn’t mention the other friend. I’m guessing Persephone. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Hades is a total dick—”

My brows lower, and my spine cracks straight as I glare at him. “Yes, he is, but as his supposed friend, I’d expect you to have more—”

“Loyalty?” Charon cuts me off to ask with a delighted grin.

Was he testing me?

I’m still buzzing with whatever ill-advised snap of anger overtook me just then. Why would I give a flying flip what Charon says about Hades? “I don’t like tests.”

Charon shrugs. “I’d have been more subtle if I had more time. And I’m telling you because I suspect Hades could…come to think of you as a friend, too.”

He might as well have slapped me. The impact would have been the same.

Then he glances over my shoulder and smiles. “Isn’t that right?”

“I don’t need your help finding friends.” Hades’ distinct growl slides through the darkness and over my skin in a delicious shiver that skims and caresses and awakens as it goes.

He kneels in front of me, running his hands over my body like he did after Poseidon’s Labor. This time there’s an underlying disquiet to his actions and his pinched expression. “Are you hurt?”

“Probably.”

“I’m not in the mood, Lyra. Answer the question.”

“I’m serious. I think I’m in shock. Nothing feels like it’s critical, though.”

He grits his jaw, but he nods, still checking me over. He works his way up my arms, then brushes my wet hair back and hisses. And that’s when I see it. Concern. Real concern. I know because I’ve dreamed of someone—my parents, Boone, even Felix—looking at me like that all my life. It darkens his eyes in a way that sends my heart tumbling.

He brushes his fingertip over a spot at my temple, and I wince at the pain that slices through my head at that touch.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

But he doesn’t stop, threading his fingers through my hair, checking for more places I bumped into rocks. And it takes every ounce of my feeble self-control to not let either man know what I just realized.

Hades might take up all the air in the room, and he’s arrogant and bossy, not to mention secretive and closed off. Plus there’s that nasty temper. And he dragged me into the Crucible. But…I like him.

I like who he is.

I like fighting with him because I know he won’t hurt me and he’s only fighting because he cares about whatever pissed him off. I like his sense of humor. I like the way he laughs but hides it. I like the way he stands alone against the world and all the other gods. I like the way he breaks rules to help me. I definitely like the way he kisses.

And I would actually like to be his friend.

In the history of horrible ideas, that one is a doozy.

“You probably have a concussion.” He finally meets my gaze.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

I don’t know what he sees in my eyes, but it makes him blink, and then he slowly withdraws. His hands untangle from my hair as he leans back, and any hint of worry is gone behind the indifferent mask he’s so very good at projecting.

“Do you need a friend, my star?” Hades’ voice is still that silky drawl, but now it’s tinted with laughter, and I think I also hear a supreme sort of satisfaction there.

I take it back. Charon was right. Hades is a dick.

The only way I can think to react is to go on the offensive, so I sigh. “You’re like a damned predator with all the sneaking up.”

Sure enough, that brings out the arrogance. “I have been likened to a panther—”

“No, that’s not it.” I tap a finger against my lips, pretending to study him, then snap my fingers. “An octopus. That’s what you’re like.”

There’s a snort that might be a laugh from one of Cerberus’ heads.

Hades eyes me. “An octopus?”

“Uh-huh. It’s uncanny.” I offer him a sunny, innocent stare. “The smoke is like tentacles as you ooze your way into the room unseen and unheard. Definitely an octopus.”

Charon chokes on a laugh. “Oh my gods, Phi, she’s right.”

Phi?

I don’t get a chance to ask because Charon’s still laughing. “I’d never noticed before, but—”

He cuts himself off when Hades slices a glare his way.

“What?” I demand. Once you’ve got them annoyed, keep going. “Octopi are quite intelligent and cunning. You should be flattered.”

Hades grunts, looking downward as if he might find peace in that direction. After seeing both Olympus and now the Underworld, I understand why he looks down instead of up to the heavens.

“Your ally, Zai, came running straight to me and told me about your trip down the river,” he says. “You’re lucky I’d already returned to Olympus.”

“Ally?” He’s going to stop fighting me on that now?

Hades nods. “He’s earned it with that show of loyalty to you.”

Zai facing Hades alone to tell him he’d lost me down the River Styx had to have taken some guts for sure. “I’m glad. Because he’s coming to live with us.”

Cerberus and Charon both make choking sounds.

I expect Hades to immediately protest, but he doesn’t. He regards me with narrowed eyes before giving a resigned nod. “Makes sense. He can’t live with Dex if he wants to survive.”

“I was expecting an argument.”

“Me, too,” Charon murmurs.

Which earns him a speculative glare from Hades.

Then Hades leans back on his heels, mercurial gaze roaming my features. “Adding to your collection?” he asks me softly with a glance at both Charon and Cerberus.

I roll my eyes. “Are you admitting you’re jealous of your best friend and your dog right now?”

Charon laughs. “I agree, Cerb. I like her, too.”

Hades rises to his feet and tosses his friend a cold stare. “You’d probably like a fungus, you’ve been down here so long.”

“Did you just compare me to a fungus?” I scramble to my feet, ignoring his outstretched hand, even as I wobble a bit. I jam my hands on my hips, about to give him what for when he interrupts.

“Not now, Lyra. The third Labor is about to begin.”

Oh. Every word I was about to say goes up in smoke, leaving behind a haze of fear.

The third Labor. Already.

This time I don’t hesitate to reach for his outstretched hand as my stomach pitches like I’m still in the river and Hades is my only shore.