Unhinged

by Chani Lynn Feener

  Would she have ended up in the same place as him? There was nothing overly special about her, and she hadn’t really done anything great with her short life, so there was no way she would have been bound for Elysium. She also hadn’t done anything awful, so Tartarus was out. They could have been together in the Asphodel Meadows.

  But what about her parents? After the accident they’d been a wreck. She’d woken to the sobs of her mother, and later had seen the tears glistening in her dad’s eyes. She was their only child, and it would destroy them to lose her.

  She hung the four dresses she’d snagged on the hook and lifted the first off its hanger. It was a deep purple shade with a bow in the back. She tried it on and instantly ditched it for another.

  The next one was orange, and she didn’t even bother with it at all. After was a vibrant red that clung to her curves in all the right places. A little too well.

  She was wearing the last dress, a sleek black v-neck, when a knock came on the dressing room door. Assuming that it was one of her friends, she whipped it open without a second thought, still inspecting herself in the floor length mirror.

  “Not too sure about this one,” she said, not bothering to look to see which of her friends it was.

  “Me either,” Hadrian’s voice cut across the air like a blade. She turned in time to see him step all the way into the dressing room, snapping the door closed with an audible click of the lock at his back.

  The five by five square changing room wasn’t exactly meant for multiple people, and left only a few feet between them. Feeling confined, she instinctually moved to make room for him, regretting it the instant he took it as an invitation to move closer.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he went on, ignoring her horrified look, “black is totally your color, but I’m thinking it’s a little too…dark, for a homecoming dance. That is what you’re here shopping for, right? The dance this Friday?”

  “What are you doing here?” she retorted, refusing to give him the satisfaction of getting answers. If he wasn’t willing to give them out, then why should she be?

  He glanced at the discarded dresses that were back on their hangers, reaching out to run the silky material of the purple one through his fingers. “I wanted to see you.”

  “What for?”

  “Does there need to be a reason?” He met her gaze, sliding his hands into his front pockets. He looked far too large for the tiny room, and she inadvertently recalled the feel of his strong arms banding around her.

  “You always have a motive.” She steeled herself against her wayward thoughts.

  “Sure,” he surprisingly agreed, then slid a foot towards her, “but can’t it just be to see you?”

  “Miss me or something?” she bit out, meaning it to be a mean reminder of their fight the other night, but instead he broke out in a grin.

  “Is that what you want?”

  She took a shaky breath and tried to get her racing heart under control. Squaring her shoulders, she tried to make herself appear as intimidating as was possible for a girl who was only five-six standing in front of a six-three god.

  “You need to leave,” she told him. “This is the girls’ changing room, and I don’t recall inviting you out with us today.”

  “I’ve noticed that first part,” he countered. “Gotta say I’m pretty happy about my timing. Must be my lucky day.”

  Her mouth gaped open before she could stop it, and she silently cursed herself. “I mean it,” she said. “I’m not even fully dressed. The zipper in the back is undone.”

  “Would you like me to help you with that?”

  “No!”

  He chuckled at her outburst, making a playful show of covering his eyes with his hand and then peeking out through an opening between two fingers. When she didn’t laugh, he shook his head disappointedly.

  “Come on, Spencer. You’ve got to have a better sense of humor than that. By the way,” he reached for the orange dress with a scowl, “you have terrible taste in dresses. These are awful; did you even look at them before picking them out?”

  “Not really,” she admitted. Sighing in defeat, she leaned back against the wall and turned her face up to the florescent bulb blaring above them.

  “You could probably come up with a better way to shop.” He rested his hands on his hips, and she felt his eyes on her even though she didn’t bother looking back. “I really did just want to see you.”

  His whispered omission had her heart fluttering, and she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

  “About the other night, I’m sorry. Just because I’m—” he stopped himself, licked his lips, “curious about you doesn’t mean I have to be cruel. I lost my temper after seeing you with my brother. He and I don’t exactly bring out the best in each other. It’s one of the reasons Hypnos doesn’t come around very often.”

  She lifted a brow. “Your third brother is the God of Sleep?”

  “The Greeks linked him and Thayer together easily, not hard considering death and sleep appear so similar at first glance. I was the wrench that they missed. I’m written down in history as being the brother of Zeus and Poseidon. The first was a prick with no relation to me, and the second—while a hell of a lot nicer—still doesn’t share my blood. Can you imagine what it’s like to have the world tell stories about you that aren’t true? That paint you in a light you don’t necessarily embody?”

  No, she couldn’t. She’d always been well-known, in her schools and in her family. “Why did they get his name right?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’m not sure. Thayer and I both believe that Hypnos must have entered the dreams of the first mortal to speak of him, ensuring that he got all knowledge of him correct. A name is just a name, though. No matter what it is, I’m still the same person.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that before?” She wanted to understand him, understand why he chose to keep secrets, instead of just opening up. The reasons behind that were complicated, and she pushed them away, not wanting to figure them out.

  “My guess is for the same reason you keep certain things from me,” his gaze held her trapped. “To protect myself.”

  How? She couldn’t hurt him and they both knew it. She was nothing against a god. She was about to point it out when another knock came at the door; this time followed by the sound of Syd.

  “Come on, Spence! You ready? Let us see!”

  “You need to go,” she mouthed to Hadrian, glad that he’d had intelligence enough to lock the door.

  He paused for a moment then gave a curt nod. He turned, about to go, then paused to look back at her. “I’ll see you tonight, Spencer.”

  She couldn’t help the small smile that touched her lips. A second later she was alone in the changing room again, and she slumped against the three foot long bench. Dropping her head in her hands, she let a tiny groan slip out before forcing herself back up to tug off the black dress.

  By the time she’d stepped out, Syd already held her chosen dress—a powder blue—slung up in her arms.

  “’Bout time,” she said.

  “She’s all set,” Quinn added in a nicer tone. “Find anything?”

  Spencer hadn’t totally hated the black. Until Hadrian had said something about it. His opinion shouldn’t matter to her, but she found herself telling them no, and setting all the dresses on the rack. Leaving the store empty-handed, she repeated her earlier comment about wearing something from last year.

  Syd still didn’t agree with that decision but she let it go, and they piled back into her gold Camry. It was a good forty-five minute drive back into town, and they all settled in their seats for the trip.

  Spencer listened to the two of them gab some more about boys, Syd mostly hogging the conversation with various names of guys they went to school with. Her mind turned to the fact the malicious spirit still hadn’t been found. He also hadn’t bothered them again, though.

  If the thing stayed away from them until the year was up, that would work too
. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about any of this.

  But…how could she pretend like she didn’t know the Underworld existed? Like she didn’t know about the spirits that had been let loose around them? Like she didn’t know Hadrian?

  Once their deal was over, he wouldn’t have any reason to keep seeing her. She’d never go back there and she’d never speak to him again. It would be like he was completely cut out of her life. Like their time together never took place. She knew she shouldn’t care about that; she’d have Micah. That’s what she’d wanted all along. That’s what all of this was about.

  But if they hadn’t found the malicious spirit, how could she go on knowing that it was probably out there hurting someone?

  She was still pondering this when they reached her house. She got out with a wave and breezed inside on autopilot. She checked the note that her parents had left her on the fridge saying they’d be on campus late, grabbed a coke, and booked it upstairs.

  She had a couple hours still before she had to go visit the Underworld, and she wanted to think about her feelings. There were things that she’d been lying to herself about, and it was far past time that she sat down and really thought it all through.

  The box positioned at the foot of her bed had her pausing in the doorway. It was three feet long, about a foot wide, and wrapped in black paper. Cautiously she made her way over to it, feeling stupid for being wary of a package. For all she knew, it could be from the spirit. Or Thayer.

  Slowly she removed the wrapping, then took a deep breath before lifting the lid of the box. She gasped when her eyes landed on the folded white chiffon dress. She pulled it out, holding it up before her in front of the mirror propped against her dresser.

  The dress was short in front, coming to about four inches above her knees, and longer in the back, dipping almost all the way down to her heels. There was a single thick strap that crossed over her right shoulder made from the same material as the rest of the dress. The only color on it was the band of gold that wrapped around the dress, acting like a belt, directly below her breasts.

  Already she was envisioning what it would look like on; how the silky soft material would feel against her skin. She’d never seen a dress like this before, and couldn’t recall the last time she’d actually fallen in love with a piece of clothing.

  She turned back to the box and saw the note card inside. She held it up and barely repressed the shiver that racked through her.

  In thick cursive were the words: A peace offering. ~H.

  She plopped down to the bed, cradling the dress in her lap. What was she going to do? This was the sweetest thing anyone had done for her in a while, and she didn’t know how to react to it. She’d never worn white like this, so clean and elegant. It was definitely more elegant than what was expected for homecoming, that was for sure.

  The smart thing to do would be to return it. To thank him kindly, but explain she just couldn’t accept it. The thought of that however left a sinking feeling in her stomach, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

  It was just a dress, after all. He knew she couldn’t find one. It didn’t mean anything.

  It couldn’t.

  Chapter 26:

  “Thanks for the dress.” Spencer inhaled sharply when her foot slipped on one of the rocks.

  His arm shot out, grabbing her around the elbow, tugging her back. When he saw that she was fine, he flashed her that devilish grin of his and continued leading them down across the mountainous terrain.

  “I was wondering when you were going to bring that up.”

  They’d already been walking for a while now, apparently towards the final of the five famous rivers of the Underworld. Like promised, he’d been waiting for her in the ballroom when Ferris had dropped her off, and they’d set off soon after. In all the rush of the past weeks, she’d almost forgotten that there was still one left for her to see.

  “Well, now I have,” she said uncomfortably. She ran her sweaty palms against her jeans and tried to project a sense of calm she didn’t feel. “I appreciate the gesture. And the dress is amazing.”

  “It’s beautiful,” he countered. “It’s perfect for you.”

  Not wanting to pick apart those words, she quickened her pace, hoping he would believe that it was due to her excitement to see the river. “Tell me more about where we’re going.”

  “The Cocytus,” he told her with a knowing smirk. “It’s called the River of Wailing. Don’t ask why,” he said when she opened her mouth to speak. “You’ll see in a minute.”

  They came to the other side of the mountain finally; the ground dipping low at their feet so that she had to hold her arms out to keep her balance. For a split second she actually played with the idea of letting herself trip again, just so she’d get to feel his arms around her. She was sick. If Micah knew she had thoughts like that…

  Though, in order for him to know anything, he’d have to actually show up once in a while.

  “You look upset,” Hadrian said then, pulling her out of her head.

  “Sorry. Just thinking about—”

  “Micah.” He turned his face away, but not before she caught the look of distaste. “He’s been spending a lot of time with his father, is that it?”

  “I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?” It was funny how easy it was to voice her internal confliction to him, when she hadn’t been as able to with her friends.

  “For wanting to have him around?” He shook his head. “No. You love him, it makes perfect sense. Even having newly discovered his father, he should be making a better effort to find time for you. I still get pissed when I think about how he could have helped had he been there that night you and Syd were attacked.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “What’s done is done I suppose. I just don’t want to be mad at him for wanting to be with someone he thought he’d never see again.”

  “Micah didn’t believe in the afterlife?”

  “Somewhat. Not as strongly as I did. He had beliefs, he just wasn’t really sure what they specifically were. Obviously now that’s different. Being here changes things. There’s no way anyone could deny there’s an afterlife after visiting the Underworld.”

  He stopped her by placing a hand gently to her arm, waiting until she frowned up at him. “I have to ask, are you sure you want to see this? They don’t call it the River of Wailing for nothing, Spencer, and I don’t want you to think I set you up to be made upset.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “But I think I can handle it.”

  “If you insist.” His hand slid down her arm until it gripped hers. Without another glance her way, he brought them completely over the bend and then took a sharp right.

  The river instantly came into view, this one vastly different from the others. There was no visible water flow because a thick sheet of ice encased it. Even the ground around it had frozen; blades of ruby red grass that appeared more like glass than anything else breaking off as they stepped on it.

  At the very edge of the river, her breath puffed out in thick wispy clouds, and she shivered.

  Hadrian stripped off his white pea coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. Without waiting for a thank you he stepped out onto the ice, moving a few feet before turning and holding his hand out for her once more. He motioned her forward with his fingers, expression blank.

  For some reason she felt like it was a test of some sorts; like he was purposefully trying to see how far she was willing to trust him. Dealing with her inner thoughts had been high on her list of things to do today, so with a deep breath she took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her out.

  She trusted him. Time to admit it.

  The sound of whistling wind had picked up the second they’d passed the mountain, and now she turned her head to the side with a frown. She couldn’t feel even a slight breeze brushing up against her, so where was the noise coming from?

  Seeing her confusion, Hadrian tugged her further out until they stood at the cente
r of the river, a good ten feet of ice on either side of them.

  “When you look down,” he told her softly, “don’t panic.”

  She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but she inhaled and then let her gaze drop. At first she didn’t see anything but the thick blue tinted white ice, then something caught her attention.

  A flare of red drifted underneath, and she bent down to get a better look. It twisted in the water below, and she followed it up, nearly jumping out of her skin when her eyes locked onto a set of brown ones.

  The woman beneath her feet pounded against the ice, her mouth hanging open in a perpetual scream. Bubbles burst from around her purple tinged lips, and willowy strands of black hair spun around her head. Her hands were frantically beating away at the layer of frozen water keeping her from oxygen.

  That’s when she realized the woman wasn’t alone. There were hundreds of them, thousands, maybe even millions. People in the river fighting to get free. The sound wasn’t wind at all; it was the muffling of their combined screams.

  She got why it was called the River of Wailing now.

  “Why are they down there?” she demanded to know, rubbing her hand over the surface in an attempt to find a way to break through. She glared at him when he yanked her back to her feet, though he was gentle when doing it.

  “You can’t help them, Spencer,” he said. “These souls aren’t meant to be saved. They were sentenced here, to freeze and drown on a continuous loop for the rest of eternity.”

  “You’re joking right?” She flinched when he shook his head. “What did they do? This isn’t Tartarus.”

  “Cocytus runs through it,” he explained. “These are all the people who betrayed those who trusted them. Whose traitorous behavior resulted in the deaths of innocents. This is how they’re punished, by forever knowing what it feels like to be turned on. In their cases, it is their body who has become the traitor, dying despite their mind’s will to exist.”