by Brux, Boone
I glanced at the clock. “That’s only eight hours from now. Actually seven hours and forty-five minutes. But then I need to shower, so really seven hours.”
“Then I suggest you get to bed and get your beauty sleep.” She started to pull the door closed but stopped. “Hey, thanks again for saving my life.” Her gaze locked with mine. “Nobody has ever done that for me before.”
“You would have done the same thing for me.”
She scrunched up her face as if contemplating that. “I’d like to think I would have.”
“You would have.” I gave her a cocky nod. “We’re friends.”
Though she didn’t reply, she did smile and nod once before closing the door.
I took a quick, very hot shower to rinse off any traces of river water and cleaned the cuts on my arms, and then fell into bed. My party girl roommate must have still been shaking her stuff at Charon’s. For that, I was eternally grateful. As it were, I’d only get seven hours of sleep after being awake for nearly twenty-four hours. I was guessing a full day, but who knew since there was no time in the netherworld.
After checking the alarm was set for seven, I shut off the light, and curled up under the covers. The steady hum of the air conditioner relaxed me, but I didn’t fall asleep right away. My mind insisted on sifting through the events on the ferry. The passengers had been the easiest part, and I bet Tabris knew that when he’d sent Mara and I to check out the situation earlier this afternoon. We hadn’t really known what to expect, and even if I had known what dangers waited for us, I don’t think I could have refused to ferry. Tabris had made sure there was a lot of back-up authority in the room.
Having only done three runs on Styx, I already understood Charon’s need to periodically take a break. I couldn’t even fault him for wanting to retire—if he truly did. Maybe it was because I was human, but ferrying wasn’t a job I wanted to do for very long. Maybe being a supernatural being meant the effects of the Underworld were less…soul sucking.
At some point during my recounting of the day I drifted off to sleep, and woke to the annoying beep of the alarm at seven o’clock the next morning. When I rolled over to shut it off an all-over ache resonated through my body.
“Owww,” I groaned. The shrill alarm pierced my skull. I swiped for the clock, but missed the snooze button. Muscles I hadn’t used since my physical testing to be a reaper cried out in protest. Tiny muscles under my armpits throbbed when I lifted my arm again. Unable to keep my arm raised, it dropped like a block of concrete onto the clock, silencing the alarm. “Somebody put me out of my misery.”
Nobody appeared to answer my plea, which meant I’d have to get up. Using my feet, I kicked off the covers. Well, not really kicked them off, more like grabbed the blankets with my toes and worked them down my body. My toes were the only things that didn’t hurt. Once free from the bonds of my sheet, I rolled to the side of the bed, and let my legs drop over the side. Pain radiated across my ribs and through my abdominal muscles. It took all my strength, but I gritted my teeth and pushed to a stand. Though I’d taken a shower last night, I shuffled into the bathroom for another. Hot water and ibuprofen were the first order of the day.
I peeled off my T-shirt and set it on the bathroom counter, not wanting to have to bend to pick it up later. I cringed at my reflection. Large purple bruises spread across my hipbones from where I’d hit the wall when trying to pull Mara out of the river, and scabbed-over gashes slashed across my forearms. Of course, saving her life had been worth the injury—of course it had.
Some of my grumpy mood lessened with the pulsing massage of the hot jets. I rubbed the raven pendant hanging at my neck, hoping for some of its healing magic. The familiar tingle skittered across my skin, followed by what felt like the gentle brush of wings. The aches eased a bit more, but certainly didn’t vanish. I’d learned this little trick by accident after my physical testing. The pendant took injuries to a tolerable level.
Feeling fifty-percent better than when I woke, I dressed in comfortable clothes and opted for minimal makeup and hairstyling. At a quarter to eight my phone dinged with a text from Nate, saying we were meeting for breakfast in the same restaurant as yesterday. I spent a few minutes gathering things I thought I’d need for the day: my phone, my conference badge—pain reliever.
At eight on the dot, I strode into the restaurant. Nate, Cam, and Mara were already there. She watched me with a cross between sympathy and exhaustion.
“Morning.” My purse slid from my grasp to the floor and I slowly lowered to the chair, trying my best to ignore my protesting abs and thighs. I looked at Mara. “Sleep well?”
“Meh.” She held out a hand rocking it side to side. “How about you?”
“The same.” I pulled the carafe of coffee to me and poured. “I must have slept wrong. I’m a little achy today.”
“I slept like a baby,” Nate said.
“Me, too.” Cam’s smile was all bright and cheery. I wanted to smack him. “Usually I don’t sleep well in hotels, but for some reason I’m having no problem here.”
“I didn’t think angels needed to sleep.” I swirled my spoon around my cup, mixing in the creamer. “Don’t you have unlimited energy?”
“Not when we take a physical form,” he said.
And what a physical form it was.
“Same for us,” Mara added. “Demons have all the same weaknesses as a human: hunger, injuries, libido.”
“Wow, I’d never thought about that.” I took a sip of coffee and set the cup on the table. “You learn something new every day.”
“Sometimes you learn a lot of new things.” Mara grinned at me.
“Indeed.”
Conversation flowed easily through breakfast. We discussed our plans for the day. Nate was hot for a couple of seminars on guerilla tactics for reaping violent souls. Cam said he had a few non-Charon cases to follow up on. At some point I figured Mara and I would be summoned to Tabris to give a report, but until then we decided to do more shopping. Today the vendors serving GRS opened their booths in the Expo Center. I couldn’t wait to check out the latest technology for grim reapers.
We flashed our badges at the security guard stationed at the door, but he stopped us, giving our pictures a closer look. The man towered over both of us, his massive shoulders rolling forward like a gorilla’s. Our badges looked tiny in his wide hand, and I couldn’t help shifting under his dark, scrutinizing gaze. After giving us a thorough once or twice over, he let us pass into grim reaper heaven.
I’d assumed there were gadgets and baubles for those of us dealing with the afterlife, but I’d completely underestimated the elaborate array of products. Everything from clothing to spirit-tracking devices was available for purchase.
The first booth we stopped at displayed clothing. I picked up a pair of black mittens. Thick fleece lined the inside, and the outer shell felt like a cross between neoprene and rubber.
“Aren’t those nice?” asked a woman dressed in a camo tank top and army green cargo pants. Her frizzy mass of dishwater brown curls sat piled on top of her head and secured by a green scarf. “They’ve got a thin layer of ectoplating between the lining and outer shell.”
“Ectoplating?” I assumed that had something to do with ghosts.
“It’s the newest thing.” She slipped the mittens on and held her hands in front of her. “You can wear these when it’s cold out and not have to worry about taking off your gloves to hold onto a spirit. You just—” She lunged forward, as if catching a spirit. “Grab the ghost and the ectoplating magnetizes to the soul. No holding on or gripping required.” She gave a violent shake. “No matter how hard they fight, they can’t break free.”
“What if you’ve only got them by one hand?” Though spirits naturally stuck to me, there were times when I’d had trouble holding onto them. If they were stronger, the soul could break free. “For instance, if I was driving a scooter?”
“Because our ectoplating is ten times stronger than the old brand, y
ou could easily hold two full-size spirits.” The woman’s eyes rounded with excitement. She really believed in her product. “Or three smaller ones with one hand.”
“What if the spirit is wet or has fallen in a vat of oil?”
Mara cocked her head, her brow pinching together. “Seriously?”
I shrugged. “You never know. Remember who I reap.”
Her expression relaxed. “You’ve got a point.”
“Oil, water, snow—” The saleswoman waved her hand. “None of that lessens the magnetizing effect.”
These mittens were something I could use. Over the last few months I’d traveled to remote villages to reap souls. The planes were small and cold. The villages rustic. I needed versatile clothing “How much?”
“Forty-five dollars.” When I started to set the pair back on the table, she added, “But the conference price is thirty dollars, fifty for two pairs.”
I pursed my lips and narrowed my gaze on the mittens. Of course I was going to buy two pairs. I would have shelled out forty-five for one. Routinely I paid upwards of twenty-five dollars for the gloves I buy my kids, which they lose within a week. After a few seconds I nodded. “I’ll take two pairs.”
“Excellent.” She dropped the mittens into a plain white bag. “Be sure to tell your friends about them.”
“I will.” I handed her a fifty and took the bag. “Thanks.”
“Sucker,” Mara mumbled as we walked away.
“Even if they don’t work, at least my hands will stay warm.”
The booths stretched endlessly down the center and spread in a maze of tempting treats. Mara bought a silver Wingblade and demonstrated it for me. The tips of two serrated blades curled in opposite directions, forming an S, and could catch an attack from behind or front. When closed, four finger holes allowed her to wear it on her hand like brass knuckles. The Wingblade was intimidating, the efficiency with which Mara wielded it—terrifying.
We tried out the latest spirit tracker software and GPS systems, checked out mirrors designed to trap demons, and contemplated a Tibetan protection amulet. But after an hour of browsing, neither of us had purchased anything else. We worked our way down the last aisle near the exit and were about to leave when my gaze fell upon the most beautiful sight. The iconic weapon of a grim reaper and the missing piece of my soul.
“I want.” Like a tractor beam, the gleaming scythe drew me in. We stopped at the display rack of hand carved handles and blades of varying size. “They’re beautiful.”
“Custom made,” the vendor said. He touched a pole with skulls carved along the handle. “You can pair this handle with any blade. If you want something a bit more feminine we have carved lilies, or maybe something simple like this black polished handle.” He picked up a cylinder that was slightly larger than a beer bottle. “We even have our compact model.”
He held the cylinder in front of him and pressed the silver button at the side. From either end a wooden pole extended, and from there, another length at the bottom shot out. A thin curved metal blade snapped out from the upper section and locked in place, creating a scythe a little shorter than me.
“Whoa.” I took the weapon from him. It was surprisingly light and my hand fit around it perfectly. “That is so cool.”
“What do you do with it?” Mara asked.
“What do you mean what do you do with it? It’s a scythe.” I swung it in a shallow arc, not wanting to damage anything or anybody. “It’s a reaper’s signature tool.”
“Well…” The vendor gave me a sheepish grin. “Mainly they’re for show or decorative purposes.” A nervous laugh escaped him and he gestured at me. “I’m sure you already know how reapers obtain their scythes.”
I did not. Until I saw the gleaming weapons, I’d basically thought most folklore about grim reapers was untrue and hadn’t given the scythe a second thought. “Refresh our memories.”
“It’s bestowed on them, either inherited from a family member or after performing an act of epic proportions at great cost to themselves.” His head bobbed up and down. “From what I hear there’s only a few hundred true scythes in existence.”
“Oh, right, I remember reading about that,” I lied, handing the scythe back to the guy, the gleaming weapon losing its appeal. I didn’t want a fake, something to hang on my wall, which undoubtedly would raise questions. I wanted a real, working, personally-bestowed-upon-me scythe. “Thanks for showing this to us. It’s amazing.”
“You bet.” He twisted the base and the weapon contracted. “I’ll be here until Sunday if you change your mind.”
“Sounds good,” I said. That was my stock answer, which meant I wouldn’t be back but didn’t want to be rude. We headed toward the exit. “I wonder if Charon has a scythe.”
“You would think so if he’s the ferryman,” Mara said. “He’s always holding one in all the artwork I’ve seen.”
“I think I’ll ask Nate when I see him.”
“Ms. Carron? Ms. Mara?” a voice said from behind us. We turned to see Tabris’s tall assistant standing a few feet away. “Mr. Tabris would like to speak with you if it’s convenient.”
I glanced at Mara and she nodded. “Okay, we’ll head there now.”
“Very good.” He bent in a shallow bow. “I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”
We strolled across the open area and when I glanced back, the guy was gone. The fact that he suddenly disappeared didn’t faze me was a testament to how numb I was becoming to the paranormal world. Things that would have made my jaw drop a year ago now barely made a blip on my radar.
“I wonder what Tabris wants,” I said.
“Probably wants to know if we ran into any problems.” She glanced at me. “What should we tell him?”
“The truth.” We turned down the hall, passing several convention attendees headed to the Expo Center. “He probably knows everything already.”
“And we should mention the gold. Make sure it’s okay that we used the toll money.” We stopped in front of the golden doors. Mara lowered her voice. “I’m also going to ask him to reimburse us for the clothes.”
I knocked. “Especially since your pants got ruined.”
A growl rumbled from her. “I freakin’ loved those pants.”
The door opened before I could agree, not surprisingly by Tabris’s assistant.
“You sure do get around,” I said, entering the room.
He smiled. Unlike his usual placating expression, mischief laced this grin. It was the first time I noticed the intelligence in his eyes. Normally he drifted in and out, only noticed for a second. No doubt he’d overheard more confidential conversations and knew more secrets simply by being a fly on the wall.
“Ladies.” Tabris skirted the gold desk, a white smile gleaming against his coppery skin. “I’m anxious to hear how your first adventure went. Smoothly, I hope.”
Mara and I glanced at each other. “Not too bad,” I said, looking back at Tabris. “We had a few bumps in the road, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“Excellent.” He turned to Mara. “And you had no problem following the river?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “It hasn’t changed much. A few more branches off the main stream, but everything seems basically the same. We did run into a situation when we docked at the juncture.”
“But we handled it,” I said, jumping in to reassure him. “It seems Charon pays the guy fifty gold pieces to open the cabin once they dock.”
“We didn’t have any gold on the first trip,” Mara said, picking up the story. “So we took it from the toll plate at the arch.”
“I hope that’s okay.” I tensed, unsure what his reaction would be.
“You may spend your money however you wish,” he said.
Relief washed through me. “Okay, great, I didn’t want to break—” His statement suddenly sunk in. “Don’t you mean the money, or Charon’s money?” An unsure giggle slipped from me. “You said “your”, sounding like you meant it’s my mo
ney.”
“That’s right.” He slipped his hands into his front pockets, pinning me with a coppery stare. “When you passed through the arch and were vetted, you officially became the new ferryman, or in this case, ferrywoman. At that moment, all rights and benefits of the job reverted to you—including the gold.”
The breath stopped in my throat and I choked out, “You’re joking?”
“I’m dead serious,” he said, smiling.
My gaze cut to Mara and she appeared to be equally surprised. “I guess that whole clothing reimbursement issue is solved.”
“Wait.” I followed Tabris to his desk. “If I’m the one now getting paid, what about Charon?”
“Unless he signs a new contract and returns to the ferry, his wages are cut off.”
“Okay, but isn’t he going to be a tad pissed off about that?” The thrill of being a hell of a lot richer warred with the fear of facing Charon when he found out.
“It doesn’t matter,” Tabris said. “What’s done is done.” He scooted the white leather chair up to the desk. “The gold is exchanged and will be transferred into your account.” He slid an index card toward me. “You authorized direct deposit when you were hired. I hope it’s all right that we used that same account.”
“Way all right.” I looked at Tabris. “What about Mara?”
“The position is only authorized for one person. Any arrangements for compensation for her will have to come out of your pay.”
“Of course we’ll split the money.” It didn’t matter that I was the designated driver. Without Mara by my side, I would have died at the abyss, not to mention lost all the souls. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have even managed getting into the elevator with Hal. I grabbed her arms. “And we are so buying you some new pants.”
“Sweet,” Mara said, nodding.
“Also,” Tabris said, interrupting the list of ways I was going to pamper Mara and myself. “Nate updated me about last night and Charon. As I’m sure you’ve already figured out, finding him was the easy part.”
“Yeah, he’s being very stubborn.” I didn’t mention the chat I’d had with him, or that I’d planted the seed they’d gotten somebody else to ferry. Most certainly the board of directors hadn’t told us everything, either. “Any suggestions on how we get him to agree to go back?”