“Well, I’m here to help in those rare moments when you don’t.” He winked.
My stomach fluttered just as it had when I first met him. In some ways, I felt like we were on a first date, even though our souls had known each other for so much longer. I had to wonder if we knew each other before we became living beings. Perhaps we plotted out this chaotic journey long before our births as a way to reunite us in the most exciting, extreme way.
“Why did we come here?” I asked.
He pulled me across the street after looking both ways for traffic. When he opened the door of the Le Nektar for me, a whiff of warm air, coffee beans, and happiness washed over me. My mind knew I would not see Eve at the counter waiting to take my order, but my heart hoped that I would. As I turned to look at the counter where coffee drinks were made to order, I saw a young man with blond hair in his eyes, his face bright with cheer. Brent and I walked hand in hand to the counter, placed our orders, and carried our full cups of coffee to a small table in the corner of the shop.
I glanced about once we settled into our spots. The college student and the old couple were not in their usual spots, though it seemed silly to think they would be after two years. Still, I wondered if they would show up or if they had already visited earlier in the day. The brown painted walls made me feel comfortable, safe even. Being here with Brent certainly helped with the feelings of ease.
We sipped our drinks. A strip of foam clung to his upper lip before he licked it away. Brent appeared to want to smile, like he was trying to be flirtatious, but there was a heft to his gaze. I lowered my mug of coffee to its saucer. I was ready to talk if he had something to share.
“I have a secret,” he said, his voice low and hushed.
I raised my eyebrows. Go on.
“I don’t like coffee.”
My eyebrows rose higher, if that was even possible. “You what?”
“I don’t like it. Too bitter.”
How do I not know this? “But we’ve had coffee together more than once.”
“I know.”
“Then…if you wanted to tell me this now, why did you order a coffee?”
“Because it’s the hip thing to do, right?” Suddenly Brent looked a little sheepish. Knowing what he could do and the power that he held, his slightly hunched shoulders and scrunched brow became humorous to me. “Why are you laughing?”
“I’m not.” I snorted. “Okay, I am.”
He allowed me the time that I needed to laugh, so I made sure to enjoy the moment. In that time, he sipped his coffee, making a face as he did. Once I had enough, I quieted down, composed myself, and then took a drink of my own coffee. The slightly fruity flavor warmed me through and through.
“I didn’t bring you here to confess that I hate coffee. Although I did worry you’d break up with me for it. I sort of lose my charm without a coffee in my hand, huh?”
I cocked my head to one side. “Well, now that you say it, you sorta do.”
Hurt crept into the corners of his eyes, but I knew he knew that it was a joke.
Still.
“I’m teasing,” I said. “I’d never dump you over coffee, even Le Nektar coffee. But do you think you can tell me why we’re really here?”
“Now that you’re done laughing at me, sure.” He took my hands in his, lacing our fingers together so that neither of us could dare to lift our drinks. The strategy, at least part of it, was to avoid having to drink the ghastly, bitter-to-him brew. The other part, I waited patiently to hear as he paused to gaze at me.
“What is it?” I asked, growing uncomfortable. He had something big to say, and the longer he looked at me, the seemingly heavier and bigger it got.
“Ollie, I’m your Grim Reaper. That will never change. When your time finally comes, and hopefully it won’t be for a very, very long time, I’m going to be the one to ferry you. I need to know that you’re at peace with that.”
I considered his words. They moved like silk over his tongue. His voice alone was enough to assure me that he would honor his job as my Grim Reaper with care and love. My brain screamed at me that I had nothing to fear from him, that I should consider myself lucky for having such a caring soul as my guide to the Afterlife.
But his words weren’t enough. I could not make peace with it. Not yet, anyway.
“You don’t have to tell me now that you’re okay with it, though,” he added. “I’ll wait for as long as you need it.”
I gave him a nod to say “thanks” as I fought back my own cocktail of emotions—grief, happiness, regret, anger, relief.
“Anyway,” he said after he cleared his throat. “I have something I’ve been meaning to give to you since we left the Acheron. There just hasn’t been a good time until now. Even now, it isn’t. That’s why I whisked you away. You’re always on the go.” His blue eyes lowered to our hands and then rose back to meet my gaze.
“Trust me, I don’t live to be on the go. I would give anything to relax in the mountains with you by my side.” Even though my voice felt like dry sand as I spoke, this declaration made me feel both blissful and melancholy. We were so close to that dream, yet still so far from owning it. “So what do you want to give me, eh?”
“Well, I’ve kept this safe long enough. It’s time you take it back.”
My throat tightened, hands began to quiver. And as they shook, my arms followed and then my legs. Somehow, my body knew before my brain what it was he was talking about. Then, my eyes began to water because they picked up on my body’s message. They knew and then they begged my heart to listen.
“Brent?” I said as his hands unraveled from mine to cup my cheeks. Gently his lips met mine. To anyone in Le Nektar, we were two lovers engaging in a simple kiss on the lips, nothing too intimate or private. Just a kiss. One little, sweet kiss between two beings.
But it was much more. In that kiss, energy skipped between us, moving from Brent to me. He was not taking anything away from me as he had in Lethe during my trial. He instead was giving it back. The kiss was short, sweet as pie, and as our lips parted I fluttered my eyes open to see him again. His hands lingered on my cheeks. They were warm, and they held me upright as I felt my torn soul becoming whole again, piecing the frayed edges, healing me to the Stygian I once was.
This act was so small. It was almost nothing in the wake of all the horror and trauma we had endured. Nevertheless, my soul quivered with bliss. For so long we fought, never knowing if we’d get this chance. Death and misery had always been one step behind us. Marin had made sure of it. But now, in the corner of Le Nektar, doing something as normal as having coffee together, I was made whole again. The sensation between having my complete soul as opposed to half of my soul was minimal. At least for now. But I did feel the smallest hints of frayed edges of myself being sewn slowly and meticulously back together. Perhaps it was what a human felt after the break of a fever. They are still exhausted and weary, but on the mend.
Tears trickled down my cheeks and over his hands. I was certain too that his eyes were cloudy, but I didn’t mention it. He then put his lips to my forehead, before he pulled back and gazed at me with a look of gratitude.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long, I was sure it would never happen,” he said.
Words failed me. I sat staring at him, crying, my hands gripped around his forearms.
“I kept that part of you safe, Ollie. I told you I would.”
I believed him, though, I didn’t have to hear him say it. As I breathed in, filling my lungs, I felt as if I had more air and more energy. My body felt more powerful. Energy moved through me, relearning the journey around this once familiar body.
“Ever since your trial, you’ve done everything with half your soul. Everything. You don’t know the pain it caused me to keep that part of your soul protected while I was under the compulsion of my duty to Styx. Every moment felt like I was moving through fire, Ollie. But I would do it all again for you.” He stroked away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. �
�Now that you’re whole, I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re capable of. What I do know is that you’re the most powerful Stygian I know. The most powerful I’ll ever know.”
I had done what I thought I couldn’t—destroy Marin and overcome his Deathmark—all with half of my soul. Brent was right. There was so much more I could do. And the only thing I wanted to do was good. It was the only thing that mattered now.
“Je t’aime, my darlin’.”
“Je promet.” I kissed the backs of both of his hands. I still couldn’t form the words to tell him I loved him, but I could tell him what else was in my heart. “Merci, mon amour.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
—Shakespeare
On my motorbike and with Brent riding as a passenger, we were third in a mile-long line of cars and trucks and vans carrying rebel Stygians toward the final meeting spot before our charge on Lethe. The sun was beginning to set. We had only an hour left of sunlight before darkness hit.
Prior to us hopping onto the motorbike, Clover had pulled me aside and into a private spot near a cluster of trees next to the vineyards. These were the same trees that Brent and I had visited before we had mounted the Interceptor to the roof of Le Château Frontenac on our first confrontation with Marin. This had been the only spot that was far enough from the rebels for us to speak.
“Your mama gave this to me before your attack on Lethe,” Clover had said, handing me a small, black velvet-covered box.
I had taken it from her hand and lifted the top. “This is Mama’s wedding ring.”
“She gave it to me and said that I should hold onto it until I had a chance to give it to you. She wanted you to have it, but in the excitement of your attack, she had forgotten.” Clover’s eyes had welled with tears.
The band was simple. Gold and round. Mama and Papa hadn’t much money, and the ring had represented that. But money hadn’t mattered. What had mattered was that they loved each other despite all else. The ring had been the trinket that showed that.
Prior to riding off to Lethe once more, I slipped the ring onto my middle finger where it fit snuggly like it had when I was younger. I wore it on my left hand, my dominant hand, and it did not feel strange to have it there. The ring felt like a small piece of Mama was with me, riding back to the place where all Death converged. It gave me the confidence and courage that I didn’t know that I needed.
With Mama’s ring and Brent’s arms around my waist and his hands locked tight so that I couldn’t escape, I felt nearly invincible.
Where were Papa, Delia, and Nicodemus? Why hadn’t they called?
It seemed when one thing worked out, another fell through. I had my soul back, fully intact, but now I worried about my loved ones. I didn’t know if they were alive or not. I assumed they were because I couldn’t think of the alternative. Yet, I had checked my cell phone every few minutes until it was time to leave. I had sent text messages. I had left voicemails. No answer. I had to remain certain that they were fine. After all, they were powerful in their own ways. They could take care of themselves.
But I still felt accountable for them because, whether it was a weakness or not, I loved each of them dearly.
Dudley remained at the cabin. There was no one to leave him with. So he stayed, curled on top of a fleece blanket in front of the fireplace. He had always been with someone, always protected. Now, he was on his own, and that bothered me.
Everything I couldn’t control left me unsettled. I wanted to reach out and take everything under my wing and nurture it. The idea bordered on obsessive. “If I can’t take care of them, no one will,” I kept repeating in my head.
This isn’t healthy. This is how good people turn bad. Control. They crave it.
I pushed that idea from my thoughts. I wasn’t bad. I made bad decisions at times, but I wasn’t evil like Marin or sly like Xiangu.
I’m not evil. I’m not wicked. I’m just trying to watch out for those I love. That’s not control, is it?
Brent patted my side and pointed at the spire sticking out of the top of Le Château Frontenac. The top of the hotel was visible from just about anywhere in the city. It wasn’t necessary for him to show me. I knew. But he distracted me from my thoughts, which were going in a dark direction.
My skin rippled in goose bumps as we approached Parliament Hill, the same place that we had passed on our way to save Brent from Lethe years ago. The Fontaine de Tourny was closer now than ever. My body quivered with anxiety. Would we see any Stygian rebels congregated there once we reached the top? Or would it be barren or flanked by Trivials waiting to rip each of us apart?
The three tiers of cherubs and nymphs of the massive fountain came into view as we crested the hill. We were finally here; the guests of honor arriving just as the street lamps sparkled to life and the sun’s last bit of light grew purple and pink.
“Good grief!” I squealed inside my helmet, the sound resonating for me alone.
“Holy Hades!” shouted Brent.
Surrounding us, Stygians congregated, plodding over sidewalks, grass and flowerbeds, hanging from lampposts, even scaling the fortress wall encircling Old Québec. Unassuming humans out for an early evening stroll were motionless, holding up their cell phones to take pictures as they observed hundreds of Stygians converge upon Fontaine de Tourny. Little did those humans know. To them, this was just another protest Québec City so often sees from locals or college students.
To us, it was Death’s revolution coming to a grand finale, all here to set Styx on a healthy course for the future.
“My God, is this for real?” Clover said through the window of the car next to us. “Are there really this many Stygians in Québec?”
“Québec is the nerve center of Styx. There’s bound to be more here than anywhere.” Brent replied as a large group of male Reapers sprinted in front of our motorbike. Cars didn’t matter tonight. Humans didn’t matter. These Stygians wore faces ripe with the same bravado I had seen in my own before I had left the cottage.
“Do you think the Trivials will attack us here?” asked Azim from the driver’s seat, as he leaned over Clover’s lap. The couple was holding hands. Clover’s knuckles were white from tension. Azim’s index finger stroked her pale skin, subtly trying to soothe her.
“I doubt there are enough Trivials to do it here. They’ll attack inside Lethe, I’m sure of it.” Brent’s words troubled me because they were true, and I was not looking forward to that confrontation, but I said nothing. This was the time to stand united. To do that, we had to embrace reckless abandon. We would not have come this far to fail now. Hades would be cruel indeed if failure was the path he set out for us. At least, that was what I told myself over and over and over again. Besides, we had already destroyed the biggest threat—Marin.
“What do you think of this? This is all because of you,” Clover said to me as Brent and I dismounted the bike. She and Azim climbed out of their car, but they quickly rejoined hands as they stood side-by-side. I smiled at their show of love. They were the Stygians we were fighting to protect. They deserved a bright future. We all did.
The hundreds of rebels that joined us from the Isle of Orleans parked their vehicles wherever they could, climbed out, and looked around in astonishment at the masses of Stygians.
To answer Clover’s question, I felt like I was going to hurl from exhaustion and nerves.
Manny pulled the pickup truck crammed full of the Kentuckians to one side, leaving it in the intersection because the forest of Stygians was too thick to go anywhere else. As the cars’ engines died, the voices of Styx’s allies grew louder. Manny and Puck wrenched their doors open and climbed out.
“Mama, mama, this is bigger than I imagined,” Manny said, patting his chest. His face beamed.
“I’m ready for this. Been ready for years,” Puck added. He had candy crumbs on his shirt. The Reaper was sugar drunk, and though I hated sugar, I would have chugged Pixie Stix af
ter Pixie Stix to calm my own nerves.
Crisp air bit at my cheeks as we headed toward the Fontaine de Tourny. In front of us, shoulder-to-shoulder Stygians led the way. More than likely we would not be able to reach the fountain given how many bodies stood in our way.
“I’ve never seen so many of us in one place before.” I found Brent’s hand with mine. Azim and Clover needed each other’s comfort. I needed Brent’s.
“Keep close.” Brent clutched my hand tight enough to rub my bones together. I didn’t yelp or jerk away. I needed him to funnel me toward the fountain not just because I was too short to see above the heads of everyone, but also because I was numb.
“Welcome, Styx! Welcome all!” cried a familiar bass voice from a crackling megaphone.
Cheers rippled through the throngs. My eardrums buzzed. Hands and elbows twitching with excitement shoved me from side to side. But Brent’s grip never let up, even when I caught on a teenage Reaper in a black Prodigy T-shirt and green Mohawk.
“At long last, we come together as one to bring justice to Styx!” the voice continued. “No longer do we need to hide in secret! No longer are we threatened with the List of Offenses or an eternity in Erebus! We are free! We are free!”
As we trudged nearer, I spotted the one with the megaphone standing over the crowd on the lip of the marble fountain, swinging around to reach the ears of everyone who gathered. Papa was alive! Papa was the one with the megaphone!
If Papa was here, that meant Delia and Nicodemus were, too.
I breathed in relief. The only other being I worried about now was Dudley, and he was surely okay in his little nest at the cabin.
Oh, thank Hades, Papa, Delia, and Nic were okay!
But I couldn’t rush up to Papa and hug him as much as I wanted to. There were Stygians in the way. So, I hopped on my toes to see if I could spot Delia or Nicodemus. Brent did the same, stretching his neck to get a better view.
As we searched, Papa continued with what he was born to do—to be a voice for all of us. He stood on the lip of the fountain, bringing Stygians together as he and Mama had always wanted.
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