Unhinged

by Chani Lynn Feener

  “Wait, hold up,” Quinn held out a hand, dropping her voice as if about to ask for her social security number or something. “When did you see him naked?”

  Sydney’s mouth formed an O shape, as if she were just realizing the connection.

  “Does Micah know?” she asked in a hissed whisper, like the ghost in question might be in the room with them.

  “I haven’t seen him naked!” Spencer lifted one of the decorative pillows, ironically a red one with a large pink heart stitched to the center, and wacked both of her friends with it.

  “Then how do you know about his yummy eight-pack?” Quinn said.

  “Firstly, I never said he was yummy. Secondly, we were swimming. That’s all.”

  “Swimming?” Syd quirked a brow.

  “Yes. Swimming. You know that thing you do where you move through water without drowning.” She gave her a pointed look.

  “Ugh,” the blonde rolled her eyes. “Boring. And it wasn’t that I forgot to swim,” she stated, “it’s that I wasn’t expecting to be shoved in like that. I swear the next time I see Brodie—no matter how hot he is—I’m going to beat the crap out of him.”

  “So it was Brodie then?” Quinn asked.

  “Of course it was,” Syd said. “Why?”

  “He told Ferris that it wasn’t,” Spencer informed her. “I overheard Brodie saying that you were kind of just, pushed by some unseen force. He was really freaked.”

  “Are you saying you believe him?” Quinn dropped her head into her hand.

  “It’s something that Hadrian and Ferris said,” she explained. “I don’t think Brodie was lying. Did you see the way Ferris was glaring at him? I wouldn’t want to piss him off.”

  “True.”

  “Well I didn’t see anything,” Syd put in, “due to the fact I was currently unconscious.”

  “Let’s go,” Quinn stood suddenly. “Who knows how long the God of the Underworld is willing to wait around, and I don’t know about you two, but I so don’t want to wait to have my questions answered.”

  Spencer got up to leave, but stopped when Syd grabbed her hand.

  “I get it you know.” At her questioning look she went on. “I’ve never lost someone like you lost Micah, but I get why you’re willing to make a deal with the Devil just for the chance to have him back. But, Spencer, promise me that you’ll be careful, ok? You still get to speak with him at least; the rest of us really lost him. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

  “You aren’t going to lose me, Syd.”

  She watched her for a silent moment and then nodded and headed for the door. It was clear that she didn’t entirely believe her.

  The scary part was, Spencer didn’t fully believe herself either.

  * * *

  They were in the kitchen; Hadrian sitting at the large dark gray granite island, while Ferris stood over the stove scraping at something that smelled like pure butter in the frying pan he held.

  Quinn got there first and took the seat furthest from the God of the Dead, folding her arms uncomfortably on the surface and eying both him and the Ferryman suspiciously.

  Syd did the same, sitting at her left and angling her body so that she could keep the two guys in her direct line of sight.

  That left only two more chairs, both of which were a little closer to Hadrian than Spencer would have liked. She momentarily debated whether or not she should just stand, but ended up coming to the conclusion it wouldn’t matter. Besides, he hadn’t been entirely wrong to call her out on her being ungrateful. He had just saved her best friend, after all.

  Sliding into the seat next to Syd, leaving one between her and the end of the table where he was perched, she licked her lips and conceded that one point.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “For saving Sydney’s life.”

  “I didn’t do it for you,” he informed her in a flip, almost bored tone.

  She bristled as the anger flared again. Why’d she even bother? She was about to take it all back, when Ferris turned from the stove holding a platter piled high with pancakes and dropped it down on the center of the island with a loud—probably purposeful—clatter.

  “Dinner’s served!” he chimed, passing Quinn a stack of stoneware plates and utensils. “Hope you all like pancakes.”

  “You…made…food?” Quinn sniffed at it suspiciously while Syd instantly began digging in.

  “It’s not poisoned,” he sounded offended by her distrust, but Spencer couldn’t see why. They had just discovered what he really was, after all.

  Ferris walked around the table and was just about to pull out the seat next to hers, when Hadrian’s hand whipped out with inhuman speed. The two stared at each other for a brief pause, and then the Ferryman stepped back and inclined his head.

  Spencer frowned as Hadrian vacated his chair for the one closest to her. He settled himself without glancing her way, piling a few pancakes onto the plate that had been placed before the empty spot.

  Ferris took the now empty seat as if nothing had happened at all.

  “You eat?” Syd asked, somewhat rudely, as Hadrian lifted a fork to his mouth.

  “What she’s trying to say,” Quinn jumped in, obviously noting the way his eyes had narrowed slightly, “is while we understand that you’re Hades and could kill us, we’d really appreciate it if you could fill in some of the blanks. About tonight.”

  “What’s there to explain?” He casually finished chewing. “She was dead. Then she wasn’t.”

  For a while the only sounds were of forks scraping against plates. The heady smell of maple syrup filled the room, reminding Spencer of how normal sitting down with friends for breakfast at dinner actually was. It was supposed to be, anyway.

  “How’d she drown in the first place, Hadrian?” she asked finally. She pushed her plate away untouched, turning to glare at him.

  “I imagine she fell,” he chided.

  “Why do I have a tattoo?” Syd spoke around a mouthful of pancakes.

  Spencer wanted to scold her for not taking this seriously.

  “It’s placed on everyone about to die. It’s the mark of Death, a beacon for Ferrymen so they know to claim the soul soon,” Hadrian explained. “Everyone who is about to die has one.”

  “Well, I’m not dead so make it go away.”

  “I can’t do that. Once it’s there it’s permanent, especially one like yours.”

  “What do you mean one like mine? What’s so special about me?”

  “Nothing,” he said a little too truthfully. “Not a single thing, little mortal. You’re just unfortunate.”

  Sydney sucked in a breath. “I think I liked you better when you were just a transfer student.”

  “Hmm, and I liked you better when you were dead.”

  “Get out.” Spencer stood slowly, rage flashing through her green eyes. Her entire body felt coiled, ready to strike. “How dare you speak to her like that! You don’t have the right—”

  “I don’t need rights, love,” he gave her a sideways glance, but didn’t budge from his seat.

  “Everyone just calm down,” Quinn began, always the peacekeeper.

  “He isn’t going to tell us anything,” Spencer said. “Trust me, I know him.”

  “You don’t know anything about me!” He rose so quickly, the chair smacked against the tiled floor. The move brought him toe to toe with her, and he bent his head so that he crowded her space and hovered over her.

  This time she refused to back down. Enough was enough.

  “Did you attack Sarah?” she asked, holding her ground when he flashed her an angry scowl.

  “Who the hell is Sarah?”

  “She’s a classmate of ours. In Myth and Folklore.”

  “The only face in that class I know is yours. I don’t go there to make friends, Spencer.”

  “Why do you go there, huh? To send me cryptic messages through class discussion? It had to be you.”

  “Spence,” Quinn interrupted. “The police ruled that Sa
rah’s accident was brought on by an overdose, that’s all. She had a bad trip.”

  “She said a shadow chased her out into the middle of the street,” she reminded them, watching Hadrian for any signs of recognition as she did. “Something invisible pushed Syd tonight.”

  “I fail to see the connection,” he said.

  “Both times these bad things happened right after you and I had gotten into a fight.”

  He actually laughed at that, a harsh sound devoid of humor. He rubbed at his mouth and glanced over his shoulder towards Ferris as if to share a private joke. “Can you believe the audacity of these humans?” He turned back to her. “How full of yourself you must be to think that I’d ever waste my time frivolously playing with the lives of mortals simply because you yelled at me.”

  “It wasn’t exactly one-sided yelling,” she pointed out. But at the same time, she was starting to think he was right. It was stupid to accuse him anyway, it was just he had a tendency to make her so mad that the only thing she could see was red.

  “I’ve told you already,” if possible he leaned in even closer, “if you and I were to fight, love, you’d know it. And you wouldn’t still be standing afterwards.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  He grinned, and for a split second his gaze dropped to her mouth, before moving back up to her eyes. “I had nothing to do with what happened tonight, or with this girl Sarah. You’ve my word on that. I’ll even do you one better. I swear on the river Styx, it was not me.”

  “If not you then who?” Syd finished her pancakes and dropped her head on her hands with a frustrated sigh.

  “You said that it wasn’t her time to go yet,” Spence said, recalling the conversation she’d overheard. “That that happens a lot. Why? And who were you talking about? Who’s going to be angry that you saved her?”

  He clenched his jaw, his eyes flaring and shifting a deep charcoal black. “Eavesdropping? Really, Spencer?”

  “Just answer the question,” she sighed. “Please.”

  He cocked his head, searching her face for something. She wasn’t sure if he found it or not, but a moment later his anger was gone. “Sydney was marked by Death.”

  “We got that much.”

  “No, you aren’t getting anything. She was marked by Death, as in the god of. As in—”

  “Thanatos,” she whispered, feeling her feet drop out from under her.

  “We like to call him Thayer,” he corrected. “But yes. Him.”

  “What does he want with me?” Syd had gone bone white, and her hands shook on the top of the table.

  “My guess is nothing,” Hadrian told her. “As I’ve said, there’s nothing special about you. It’s probably purely coincidental.”

  “You’re lying,” Spencer accused.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  “So sure?”

  “Yes.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched and he stepped away from her, giving her space. “There is another theory,” he said to the room as a whole. “But you lot aren’t going to like it.”

  “Tell us,” she demanded.

  “It could be that Thayer’s targeting people you know on purpose.”

  “Why?”

  “My guess is because he found out about Micah.”

  “What about him?” She failed to see the connection between these horrible things and her ghost boyfriend.

  “He’s different,” Ferris answered.

  “Different how?” she didn’t like the sound of that.

  “He comes topside after having already been brought to the Underworld,” he elaborated. “That doesn’t happen. Ever. You die, your soul is brought down, you’re judged, and then you’re delivered to the part of the Underworld you belong. For eternity. There is no coming back.”

  “Micah did all that?” Quinn blinked in surprise.

  “Yes,” he nodded. “I brought him there myself. I was even the one who delivered him to the Asphodel Meadows after the three judges were done with him. He should have stayed there, but somehow he keeps finding a way to slip out. A way he can’t remember.”

  “And you can’t figure it out?” Syd clearly wasn’t buying it. “You’re the king, right? You have to know how he’s doing it,” she directed this last part to Hadrian.

  “I do.”

  “What?” Spencer must have heard him wrong. “How?”

  “You.”

  Ok, now she knew she’d heard him wrong. “That doesn’t make sense. I’m definitely not doing it. I didn’t even know the Underworld existed a week ago, how could I have possibly gotten him out of it? Besides, I can’t get in there by myself. I need a Ferryman.”

  “I’m not saying you’re going in and taking him,” he corrected. “Micah’s been a ghost for, what? A few months now? Do you really think that spirits that young can all become corporeal already? That takes decades of energy building.”

  “But you said Micah’s the only one who’s,” Syd waved her hand in the air, “up here.”

  “He’s the only one who was brought to the Underworld and then came back. Many spirits linger instead; they choose to remain instead of going with the Ferrymen sent for them. That’s when they become ghosts. Micah’s new, and yet he and Spencer can touch. That’s special. Different. Something was strong enough to pull him out, to continue to pull him out every time she goes home.”

  “Wait,” Quinn stopped him. “So, he’s there right now? In the Underworld?”

  “Yes. In the Asphodel Meadows.”

  “Why can’t he remember that when he comes back?” Spencer wasn’t really sure she wanted to know anymore. But Micah deserved to, and if she could find out for him then she had to.

  Hadrian lifted a shoulder. “That I’m not sure. I can fix it, if you’d like.”

  “What could be strong enough to propel a soul out of Hell?” Quinn brought the conversation back around.

  He shifted on his feet then, shoving his hands roughly into the pockets of his jeans. A crease formed between his brows and he pursed his lips. When he met Spencer’s gaze, his eyes were back to being that deep unsettling cobalt blue.

  “Love.”

  Chapter 16:

  Love. He’d said the word like it was the worst thing possible. Like the very concept alone made him want to go puke his guts out. For all she knew that’s exactly what he’d done.

  Right after finally shedding some light on things, Hadrian had told them he was leaving, and before anyone could argue, he and Ferris had just disappeared. The three of them had sat there for a while staring at the empty spaces, before Syd had broken the ice by pointing out the Ferryman had left them the dishes to clean.

  What could he have against love? Sure, it sucked sometimes, but what was the point of living if there wasn’t love? Maybe that was it. Maybe he’d never been in love before. That made sense, all things considered.

  Then again, there were tons of myths written about Hades, and Persephone wasn’t the only woman written in them.

  Syd and Quinn had been a little freaked out about the whole God of Death thing, and frankly she wasn’t really taking it too well either. If Thayer really had attacked them because of Micah, then that meant that it was partly Spencer’s fault. If she’d just avoided the Underworld, would she have saved Syd the terror of drowning?

  They’d spent the night at Sydney’s and then most of Sunday. She hadn’t heard from Hadrian since, and now it was four p.m on Tuesday. He’d missed two more days of school. For all she knew he’d “dropped out”.

  Maybe she’d never see him again. He’d gotten sick of her already; his curiosity appeased, so now he had no more use for her. That was a possibility.

  She couldn’t really blame him. She’d accused him of having something to do with the accidents and now it seemed that she might actually be the one filling that role. She wouldn’t want to speak to her either. What was more upsetting was that she cared. She tried to convince herself that it was merely because it meant that she couldn’
t get Micah his old life back, but it was more than that.

  Sitting in the empty house alone wasn’t really helping her wayward thoughts.

  Her parents had left the rest of the week for a literary conference in Maine. They went every year, and they’d debated at first whether or not to skip this one. Knowing that it was because of her, Spencer had insisted they go. She didn’t want them to have to be locked up in this house with her.

  The smell of chocolate from the half-filled cup of cocoa sitting on her nightstand permeated the air and she snuggled deeper on top of her bed.

  She hadn’t seen Micah all day, but she assumed that was because he was either visiting his house or down in the Underworld. It was the latter that worried her. If Hadrian knew how he was getting up here, did that mean he also knew how to stop him from doing it?

  What if he was keeping Micah trapped down there even now, and she’d never see him again? She pushed away the bubble of panic that rose in her chest. She couldn’t afford to think like that; not when there wasn’t any way for her to find out for sure.

  She just needed to be patient, to wait it out. Micah would come back like he always did. Not even death had been strong enough to keep them apart.

  Which brought her right back to the other part of what she’d recently found out that totally terrified her. Was the God of Death stalking her now? Was he after her friends? She recalled Ferris’s comment about how Hadrian had come to an agreement with someone. She would put money on that being Thayer. The two of them must have a set of rules that they followed. Rules that he’d broken when he’d brought back Syd, a girl who’d apparently been personally marked by the God of Death.

  Why did he do it? He clearly didn’t give a shit about any of them, so why bother? And what if he’d pissed Thayer off enough that the other god had retaliated somehow? What if Hadrian was the one she should be worried about right now and not Micah?

  Don’t be stupid, Perry, she scolded herself. He’s fine. And even if he wasn’t, the only reason you’d care is because it means you’ll never get Micah back.

  She needed Micah. Needed to talk to him about all of this. He’d know just what to say to ease her mind.