Thin vines of pure silver snaked up his arm alongside the blue and black coils left seared into his flesh from Olivia’s Hell fire. The silver fire coiled around his arm intertwining with the other lines and embedding itself deep into his skin, permanently etching itself into his arm.
Slowly the fire began to ebb; the high pitched buzzing subsided until he became aware of the frantic drumming of his own heartbeat hammering in his ears. His breath was rapid and ragged as he tried to calm his racing heart. He gingerly flexed his fingers and then his arm. The flesh was sore and swollen, branded by fire and magic. He sat up once again, his concerned gaze seeking out Olivia but she remained much as she had before, still clutching onto the staff her silver gaze unblinking as she watched something only she could see.
Olivia shivered as she stepped barefooted onto the sandy shore of the lake. Strange she thought to herself as she glanced back up at the bank and then across to the jetty, all the snow was gone and although the air was chilly it was nowhere near as cold as it should be for this time of year. She looked down to her bare feet and frowned, noticing for the first time that she wore an iridescent robe of an unusual delicate shimmering fabric and as she moved forward it whispered about her legs like the smooth gossamer wings of a butterfly. Realising it was still dark she automatically reached down inside herself for her magic and with a small absent gesture two of her dragonflies burst into flame. They hovered over her shoulder dancing with sliver flames rather than their usual warm fire.
Her fingers tightened on the strangely glowing staff; the flames had banked low so now only the old gnarled knot at the top of it burned like a pale torch in the blackness. She could hear the soothing lap of the water against the shore and looked out across the lake at the fine mist which hung over the water like a shroud. The mist undulated and shifted and suddenly she realised it wasn’t mist at all, but souls, hundreds and hundreds of them all heading towards the shore.
‘So now you finally understand,’ a familiar voice spoke from behind her.
Olivia turned slowly until she was staring into the beautiful timeless face of the Goddess Diana.
‘Mother,’ Olivia breathed slowly.
‘Beloved daughter,’ she smiled stepping closer. Her gaze swept over to the staff Olivia carried and the silver dragonflies dancing enthusiastically at her shoulder.
Olivia looked towards the flaming staff and then held out her hand to the Goddess. As she unfolded her fingers silver flames danced merrily on her palm.
‘What is it?’
‘Spirit fire daughter,’ her smooth voice washed over Olivia until she felt it right down to her bones. ‘It is made from the very fabric of the other world, an element of the spirit realms and it can be used to harm or to heal.’
‘But how do I know which?’
Because you are a Mistress of Fire; there has never been anyone like you and I suspect there never will be again.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Olivia frowned.
‘You will,’ her mouth curved, ‘eventually.’
Her gaze was drawn suddenly from the Goddess to a huge white stag who appeared at her side. Diana stroked his pale coat lovingly her eyes fixed on Olivia who watched entranced as he reared up onto his hind legs. His body elongated and slimmed, the pale white fur retreating into his body to reveal pale human-like skin. His white hair streamed down his back, almost to his buttocks, his face fair and unmarked by the centuries. The only tell tale sign that he wasn’t human was the pale silver antlers protruding from his temples. He crossed the sand towards Olivia, completely at ease with his nakedness.
Olivia gasped as he neared her, her eyes widening.
‘You’re Herne aren’t you?’
The God looked down on her in amusement.
‘So you know who I am then do you, Olivia West.’
She couldn’t find the words as she looked at the sheer perfection of the naked God before her.
He glanced at the staff much as Diana had done and then at the dragonflies, stretching out his hand so one of them landed on his fingers as he studied it curiously.
‘Fascinating,’ he spoke absently to Diana, ‘the child has learned to conjure Spirit Fire.’
‘The child is standing right here,’ Olivia answered pertly before she could censor her words.
‘She is a fiery one is she not,’ he laughed in delight, ‘yes she will do nicely.’
‘Olivia,’ Diana stepped closer, ‘time is running out, you need to close the gateway.’
‘But I don’t know how, I don’t even know where it is.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
Olivia frowned, the protest dying on her lips as her gaze was once again drawn to the silent souls drifting over the water.
‘The lake,’ she breathed, ‘it was right in front of me the whole time, the lake is the gateway.’
‘The answers are before you, you have only to look.’
The shroud of souls parted momentarily and once more, just for a split second, she caught sight of a small wooden skiff drifting aimlessly on the current. Its lantern glinted off the oily looking water before the fog rolled in and it disappeared from view. Her mind was working furiously now; it was the same boat she’d seen the night she pulled the staff from the icy water of the lake. She glanced down to the glowing Greek letters on the staff and felt a sudden weight in her other palm. Opening her hand, she saw a small pile of coins nestled against her skin.
She gasped with sudden realisation and as she blinked, the lake disappeared and her room swam back into focus until she was once again by her own bed with Theo staring at her in concern.
Her eyes once again burned a dark whiskey colour and when she spoke her voice was a breathy whisper.
‘The Ferryman.’
Chapter 10
‘So the Ferryman is missing?’ Theo frowned as he stared absently into his empty coffee mug.
They both sat amidst the destruction of the library as the pale rays of morning crept through the frosted window pane. Theo sat comfortably on the sofa, his bare feet propped up on the coffee table while Beau curled up contentedly in his lap. Olivia sat at the desk trying to access her laptop, sullenly viewing the massive crack across the screen from when it had been swept violently to the floor.
‘It’s the only explanation for what’s happening.’
‘And this Ferryman is Greek,’ he struggled with the idea, ‘but he is not a spirit?’
‘No he’s an immortal.’
‘A God?’
‘No,’ Olivia shook her head, ‘not exactly, but he is extremely powerful.’ She tapped a couple of keys absently, cursing softly when the screen stayed blank.
‘I guess my laptop’s dead,’ she sighed in annoyance. ‘Okay I’m going to have to try and do this from memory.’ She sat back in her chair and picked up her cup of tea, taking a sip and grimacing at the barely lukewarm liquid.
‘So, the Ferryman is part of Greek mythology. We’re going back nearly three thousand years to the stories written by the Greek Poets Homer and Hesiod, although the actual myths themselves are much older. From what I remember the Ferryman’s name is Charon; he is the servant of Hades, the God of the underworld.’
‘Okay,’ Theo didn’t sound convinced.
‘Charon would carry the souls of the deceased across the river Styx, which divided the world of the living from the world of the dead. People would leave a coin either in or on the mouth of the deceased so they could pay for the passage. Anyone who didn’t have a coin to pay the Ferryman, would be left to wander the banks along the shore for a hundred years. Don’t you see it all makes sense now; this is what Charlotte has been trying to tell me. The Greek coins are the ones used to pay the Ferryman. The Greek inscription on her grave and the Greek poppies that bloom in the middle of winter. She also led me to the lake, where twice now I’ve seen a boat lit by an old lantern drifting aimlessly on the water without its oarsman. The stick I pulled from the water, it’
s not a stick at all, it’s the Ferryman’s pole, the one he uses to steer the boat and carry the deceased to the underworld.’
‘And the lake?’ Theo replied.
‘The lake is the gateway, but because he has disappeared the gateway remains open which is why all the souls are escaping and returning to the world of the living.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ he rubbed his tired eyes, ‘you said he ferries souls across the river Styx but isn’t that in Greece?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ she shook her head, frowning as she tried to piece it together. ‘The River Styx isn’t an actual physical river it exists only as part of the myth. What if it’s the word used to describe any waterway Charon uses,’ a sudden understanding dawned in her mind. ‘The river Styx is wherever it wants to be, it’s anywhere and everywhere.’
‘So,’ Theo began reluctantly, ‘this Charon is real? He serves a God named Hades?’
‘Yes,’ Olivia nodded.
‘So you’re saying there is another God.’
‘I’m saying there are many,’ she told him sympathetically. She knew how hard this must be for him to accept having been raised as a Puritan with a belief in one Christian God. ‘Hades is the brother of Zeus, the father of the Greek Gods and also the brother of Poseidon but there are many Greek Gods, not to mention the ancient Egyptian Gods, the Roman Gods, the Peruvians, the Mesopotamians. Every different culture over the course of history has had their own pantheon, their own Gods and Goddesses. I always thought they were just stories, just myths but I think this is what Fiona was trying to tell me the other day. It’s all real, all of them. The universe is so much bigger than we thought and our world and humans are such a small piece of it.’
‘I suddenly feel very insignificant’ Theo frowned.
A rush of sympathy and understanding had her up from the chair and dropping down onto the sofa, curling into him.
‘Theo this doesn’t change anything for you,’ she ran her hand through his hair absently as she gazed into his dark eyes. ‘Even if the other Gods exist, your God exists too. Just because there are others it doesn’t take away what you feel for him, it doesn’t change your faith.’
‘It’s just a lot to take in.’
‘I know,’ she murmured laying her head on his shoulder and watching the dancing gold and red flames in the fireplace, and suddenly feeling cold she let the warmth seep into her body.
‘What are we going to do?’ he wondered out loud, ‘an exorcism is one thing but you’re talking about immortal Gods and Goddesses.’
‘I don’t know,’ she sighed as his fingers interlocked with hers and she gazed down at their entwined hands. ‘I guess we need to find Charon, he must have the power to send all the souls back to the other side and close the gateway.’
‘I wouldn’t even know where to start.’ Theo stated bluntly.
‘Me neither.’
Theo wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in close. He sat in contemplative silence staring into the flames as Beau snuggled contentedly between them.
Olivia’s glance fell on Theo’s hand as it rested comfortably against her. Frowning as she noticed the red swollen skin., she turned and pushed the sleeve of his sweater up. Below the red irritated flesh a deep silver vein coiled around his arm, entwining with the blue and black of the metal sunk into his skin.
‘What’s this?’ she frowned sitting up.
‘It’s nothing,’ he pulled the sleeve back down.
‘It’s not nothing, what happened?’
‘Last night,’ he answered carefully, ‘when you touched Charon’s staff it lit up and so did you.’
‘What?’
‘Your eyes went silver and you were bathed in silver fire. Without thinking I reached for you, but when I touched you this happened. My arm started to burn and these markings just appeared.’
‘I did this to you?’ she whispered. ‘I hurt you.’
‘No,’ he shifted abruptly to take her face in his hands, the action tipping a disgruntled Beau onto the floor. The pup yawned in displeasure before curling amongst the books in front of the fire and going back to sleep. ‘This is not your fault,’ he told her pointedly.
‘Does it still hurt?’
‘It’s fine,’ he replied.
She knew it wasn’t; she could tell by the raised angry red skin it must have hurt like hell. She swallowed back the bitter taste of guilt and forced herself to think about it logically.
‘Have you tried to use the knife?’
Theo shook his head.
‘Call it now.’
Taking a breath Theo pushed his sleeve up and held out his hand. Olivia watched as the blue, black and silver coils slid down his arm like liquid, pooling in his palm and coalescing to form a blade. Theo turned the knife over in his hand and frowned. Before it had been the length and shape of a large hunting knife, the hilt had been a highly polished onyx and the blade itself had been a strange metallic blue black inscribed in a strange language neither himself, Olivia nor Jake had been able to read. When he turned the blade and it caught the light the lettering would normally glow a dim phosphorescent blue. Now the shiny black hilt of the knife was decorated with a thin vein of silver, woven with tiny little silver leaves. The blade was still the same metallic blue black but now it bore additional lettering which glowed silver alongside the pale blue of the original script.’
‘It’s changed,’ Theo murmured studying the blade closely.
‘It must be the Spirit fire,’ Olivia leaned in closer.
‘What’s Spirit fire?’
‘It’s the silver coloured flames you saw,’ she paused wondering if she could conjure it for him, ‘watch.’
This time when she reached for her magic it felt different. Before there was just a place deep inside her, filled with heat and light. Now she could sense different colours and each colour felt different. The red and gold of her Earth fire was warm and rich, the blue and black of her Hell fire felt seductive and powerful but the silver of her Spirit fire felt cool and ageless as if it carried with it the sense of hundreds of thousands of souls. Grasping onto the feeling she unfolded her palm and once again one of her dragonflies burst into flame, dancing and hovering on the air, shimmering with pale silvery flames.
With a sudden bark and a frantic scramble of claws on wood Beau leapt up and headed straight for the dragonfly which danced merrily out of reach. Olivia let loose an unexpected peal of laughter as she watched Beau madly chasing this new friend around the room creating more chaos, tipping over piles of books she’d begun to neatly stack ready to be placed back on the shelves and stirring up loose papers. The dragonfly seemed to be playing with Beau almost allowing him to catch it and then skipping out of his reach.
‘Alright that’s enough you two,’ she laughed and held out her hand.
The dragonfly swooped down and landed smoothly in her palm, her skin glowed momentarily as it was reabsorbed into her body. Beau leapt up and nuzzled his soft furry face into her hands, sniffing rapidly as if to try and figure out where the sparkly creature had disappeared to.
‘Crazy dog,’ she smiled and wrapped her arms around his small body, pulling him into her lap and kissing his head affectionately.
‘So Spirit fire is silver,’ Theo clarified, watching them in amusement.
‘Yes,’ Olivia nodded, ‘it's made up of the very fabric of the Spirit realms and apparently is incredibly powerful, although I must admit I don’t really know what it does yet.’
‘Maybe it’s something we can use if we come across any more violent spirits.’
‘Maybe,’ she agreed.
Olivia looked up as the doorbell rang.
‘I’ll get it,’ Theo pulled himself off the couch and disappeared into the hallway. Almost immediately he stuck his head back around the door. ‘There’s a delivery for you, are you expecting something from the museum?’
‘Oh,’ she suddenly remembered, ‘yes I am. Renata called
last week and said she had some items that were loaned to the museum by the West family. She was going to send them over.’
‘Well they’re here so where do you want them?’
‘Um, just get them to stack it in the hallway, once we see what’s there we can decide where to put it.’
He nodded and disappeared again.
Olivia slid off the sofa and started gathering up the piles of paper and books Beau had once again scattered around the room. Ignoring the banging and cursing coming from the hallway she began to sort the books into some sort of order. She hadn’t realised just how many books had been collected by her family over the years. There were so many on the occult and magic, not to mention all the historical books and mythology and folklore. That was before she’d even started sorting through the hundreds of years’ worth of journals the women in her family seemed obsessed with writing.
Pausing thoughtfully, with a small stack of books in each hand, she chewed her lip absently. Instead of just putting them all back on the shelves where they’d been she might as well make a project of it. Veronica had already offered to help her make some sense of her family history, she may as well sort through all the other books while she was at it and see what was actually there. Maybe also redecorate the room and give it a really good clean as she doubted it had been done in years.
‘Olivia?’ Theo’s voice startled her out of her reverie.
‘Yes,’ she turned towards the doorway.
‘You might want to come and take a look at this.’
Curious, she set the books down and stepped out into the hallway.
There was a large rectangular object standing against the wall, wrapped carefully in old moth eaten blankets and tied securely with thick string. She found a label suspended on the string, and turned it over in her hands trying to read the tiny elegant scrawl.
‘Loaned to the Mercy museum May 1952 by the West family. Piece commissioned circa 1920 craftsman unknown.’
Her curiosity piqued, her fingers fumbled with the knotted string until she managed to loosen it and pull it free. Theo stretched up and helped her to unwrap the blankets until they dropped to the floor in a cloud of dust.
The Ferryman (The Guardians Series 1 Book 2) Page 15