by Tess Oliver
That thought made my stomach sink as if filled with rocks. There was a good chance I would see Maximus with one or more of the Wynter Fare. There was an equally good chance that he had already left with one of them. But I had to try. I wouldn't be able to rest until I talked to him. I only hoped the information would give me some clue into my dad's whereabouts. If nothing else, I hoped Maximus knew something that would prove my dad was still alive.
Cars and motorcycles filled the parking lot of the Seven Sins. Loud voices and music thrummed through the open front door. I was relieved to see that it was crowded. I would be able to slip inside virtually unnoticed.
I parked the car and checked my stupid lipstick once more. The Maximus nerves returned. I pressed my hand against my stomach to quiet the butterflies. I had to ready myself for whatever disappointing, heartbreaking scene I'd find inside. I only hoped he could take a break from whatever he was doing to tell me what he knew.
The fog had rolled in heavier but it was never like the mist over the river. This fog was crisp and salty. It felt good on my face and helped calm the tremble in my hands as I headed to the front door of the bar.
Loud music pounded the walls and windows and booming voices thundered through the crowded room. The tables were filled with faces I'd never seen, including plenty of gorgeous women. Instantly my confidence scurried away, and I shuffled to a shadowy corner to regain it.
It was so crowded, the room felt steamy and suffocating. I searched over the heads, certain that Maximus would loom over the others, but I couldn't find him. The first person I recognized was Wilder. He was sitting with two women at a table near the front door. Wilder was one of those unbelievably handsome, dark haired men who, no doubt, woke up looking gorgeous and who had never seen an ugly day in his life. But in the few months I'd gotten to personally know the Boys, even from behind my disguise, Wilder never showed himself to be conceited or arrogant about his good looks. In fact, all of the dangerous, gritty men who guarded the human world from the scurrilous wretches inhabiting the underworld were surprisingly likable. My dad had always talked fondly of them. He admired them and all that they had endured in their young lives. I had been incredulous and angry when he had told me that the Boys of Wynter had been traded away by their parents, like an object or possession, so that the parents could bathe in wealth and power during their time on Earth. Dad had a perfect response to my anger. "Rikki, with parents like that, the Boys are better off without them."
Thinking of my dad and how he could be hurt or sick or suffering helped me find the courage I needed to circle the room. A glass of wine couldn't hurt either.
My dad had occasionally stopped into the Sins for a beer like all the other local fisherman. Steemer had told him the owner, Jemma, was a fallen angel who had been stripped of her wings and mortality and forced to live out life as a human. Naturally, he never let on that he knew her story. Just as Jemma had no idea that the slender fisherman with the gray sideburns and sun weathered skin was the infamous River of Souls ferryman. Until my unfortunate incident with the wraith, our family had done an admirable job of keeping our secret business hidden. When we were past the porous, pliable edge of the underworld we were just an everyday family.
I took a deep breath and made my way through the people milling about, sipping drinks and semi-dancing to the music. Jemma looked just as my dad had described her, an eternal beauty who had endured heartbreak but who had come out of it stronger and more content. I was always certain my dad had a bit of a crush on her.
Jemma looked at me for a long moment and then dropped a napkin on the pitted wood counter in front of me. "You're a new pretty face. Are you with the Wynter Fare?" Before I could answer, she continued. "Let me guess—you're in high end real estate and you like martinis."
"Actually, I'm Rikki. My father is Walt Jr., the fisherman. And white wine please."
Jemma shook her head. She had a lot of distinguished looking silver threads running through her black hair, which she had pulled back in a loose knot at her neck. "Guess I was way off. It's just you are so—" She smiled. "Never mind. I'll get that wine. By the way, how is your dad? Haven't seen him in here for awhile."
"He's fine." I was certain she caught the waver in my voice.
"Tell him I said hello." She gazed at me a second longer before walking away to get the wine.
My position at the bar counter gave me a new vantage point. I knew that if I turned away from Jemma and her vast array of bottles, pitchers and glasses, I could see most of the bar and most of the patrons. Since I hadn't caught a glimpse of the tall blond head I'd been hoping to see, I could only assume that if Maximus was still in the bar, he was sitting at a table. And just like Wilder, I was sure he would be sitting with women. Lovely women. Smart women. Sophisticated women.
Jemma returned with the wine, and I quickly nursed down a few gulps to fortify myself. I turned slowly around. My eyes coasted over the tables and the faces in the room. Then I caught a glimpse of Flint's unusual copper hair. He looked up from his beer and lifted it in a silent toast. I nodded and smiled back at him.
"Flint's not your type." The deep voice startled me, and at the same time caused my knees to wobble. I took a deep breath to steady myself and turned to look at Maximus.
He had pulled on a green flannel shirt and jeans which, with his size and build, made him look like the world's hottest lumberjack.
It took me a second but I found my voice. "How do you know we're not suited? I've always thought Flint was extraordinarily sexy with that rust colored hair and those gray eyes."
"In that case, I could call him over. He's already shooting me the evil eye for swooping in on you." Maximus raised up a beer to return the silent toast to Flint, who did look a bit angry. "On second thought, I want you all to myself." He plucked the wine from my hand and put it on the counter. Then he took a proprietary hold of my arm and led me through the crowd and out the door.
"The Seven Sins is not a place for you, Rikki. Why are you here?”
I yanked my arm from his grasp. "Don't treat me like a kid. I can go into the Seven Sins anytime I damn well please. Besides, I came here to find you. You said you knew something, and I couldn't wait until your next shift. I need to know if my dad's all right."
Maximus glanced around and took hold of my arm again. He led me toward a dark corner of the parking lot. I stumbled to keep up with his long stride.
"Just because you blew away a few banshees that were teasing me—"
He stopped and turned me to face him. "Keep it down about the you know whats, and trust me, darlin', they weren't teasing. They were playing with you, and for ban—for those pests, they haven't won their game until the toy is dead. You would not have made it out of there alive. That's why you need to promise me that you'll never go there again. The Seven Sins isn't for you either."
"Why the hell not? There are lots of women inside."
"Yeah, but they're not—You're not—" He turned and walked a few steps. His shoulders were tight and his hands were balled.
"I'm not what? Not pretty enough? Not sexy enough?"
He spun back around. "Never mind. I just didn't like seeing you in there being looked at and smiled at by guys like Flint." He scrubbed his face with his hands. "What the fuck have you done to me?"
"Me?" I practically shouted the word. "I haven't done a darn thing to you. Or maybe you were just worried that I'd spot you making out in one of those shadowy back tables. Well, I could care less what you do with your spare time."
He flinched at my stinging words. "That's good." His expression grew less hard. "The less you know about me, the better." His angry, terse tone had been replaced by a sort of lost sadness. I hadn't expected it and I immediately felt terrible about the way I'd spoken. Especially because none of it was true. I did care. For weeks I'd been secretly watching Maximus, with his ridiculously big shoulders and the way he rode out of Wynter as if nothing he left behind in that grim place could take away his courage or his confidenc
e. For weeks I'd watched and marveled at the man my dad always referred to as Atlas because he looked as if he could pick up Earth and throw it through the air like a beach ball. For weeks I'd watched Maximus, slowly falling head over heels for him like the awkward wallflower standing in the shadows watching her crush, the boy every girl wanted and the boy she knew she could never have.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the coin. "I'm sorry I spoke harshly. Thank you for getting this back. You said you had some information for me?"
"Yes, but not here. Too many people. Do you like motorcycle rides?"
"Do scooters count as motorcycles?"
"I don't think so."
"Then I don't know if I like them because I've never been on a motorcycle."
Maximus took hold of my hand. "Hmm, a motorcycle virgin. Let's go then."
Eleven
Maximus
I twisted the throttle and leaned into the curve on the coastal road. Rikki tightened her arms around me. And didn't she just feel fucking right sitting behind me. I wasn't exactly sure when it happened, but something had taken hold of me. It might just have been the first time I saw her looking so perfectly out of place standing on that damn ferry. Or it might have happened when I saw her stand up on the deck of her father's boat, looking so worried and unsure and in desperate need of a reliable friend. Or it might have been when I saw her stretched out between three banshees being dragged through the Wynter sludge. Then all I could think was that I was going to obliterate those screaming fuckers. Not much alarmed me, but in that moment, I was sure my heart would pound its way right out of my fucking chest. It still made my stomach knot when I thought about what might have happened if I hadn't found her. And then there was tonight in the Seven Sins. When I saw Rikki standing up at the bar, oblivious to all the attention she was getting from the men, I knew something was up because I wanted badly to drag my fucking knuckles across all their leering stares. I was even ready to give Flint a taste of my fist.
I pulled off onto the dirt road that led to the beach. The fog had rolled in but it was sitting high enough off the sand to allow a view of the ocean. And when the thick mist hovered over the sand like tonight, the warm air from the day stayed trapped beneath it like a blanket.
I parked the motorcycle and held it steady while Rikki climbed off. She curled her arms around herself as she headed toward the sand. I stayed behind for a second to watch her. She had just enough sway in her hips to keep my attention like a hypnotist's watch.
Rikki stopped and looked back. "Aren't you coming?"
"Yep, just admiring the view." I swung my leg over the seat and caught up to her.
"I love this view too. When the ocean is sandwiched between the fog and the sand."
"Yeah. That view too." She seemed to have no idea that she was sexy as fucking hell.
We reached the picnic benches on the sand and sat down next to each other facing out toward the water. The evening offshore breeze had died completely, and the tide rolled in like gentle ripples.
"Please, Max, tell me. Is my dad all right?"
"I wish I knew, Rikki. What I do know is that Catch got the coin from one of Vapour's ghouls. It was a payoff so that Catch wouldn't let on that he saw the ghoul walking out of the cave where Vapour keeps the flesh for his army."
She turned slightly to face me. "I don't understand. How did a ghoul manage to get my dad's lucky coin? They rarely come near the river."
"Yep. Doesn't make sense. Oh, and in case they do come near the ferry, ghouls don't like fire. Just learned that a few months ago when we were fighting Paygon and . . ." My voice trailed off as the fight came back to me. "We were trying to rescue Willow, and Vapour's ghoul army had marched down to help Feenix's brother fight us. Ghouls are virtually indestructible but then Trex told us that they hated fire." I stopped and looked at her. There was a hint of a smile on her face. "Only it wasn't Trex. That was you. You told us about the fire."
"Yes but technically it came by way of Trex. My great-grandfather discovered the ghouls' aversion to flames in one of his first unfortunate encounters with them. Apparently a couple of them decided there was something extra delicious under the ferryman's cloak, and they jumped on board to take a bite. My great-grandfather just happened to be lighting up his pipe when he heard the clamor on deck. He turned around and the ghouls jumped back at the sight of the lit match. That pipe might have eventually ruined his lungs, but that day it saved his life."
"I'll bet you have hundreds of stories to tell about your family."
"Bedtime stories were definitely different in my house." She put her hand on mine. The earlier tension between us had evaporated. "So tell me, Max, do you think the ghouls have my dad? And why? I can't even think—" Some of the color drained from her face. "You don't think they—Like they tried with my great-grandfather?" Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my gosh, all this time I've been thinking he's alive somewhere and that I just have to find him, but—"
I reached up and took hold of her face and looked straight into her eyes. "We're going to find him." As badly as I wanted to kiss her, I resisted. I lowered my hands. "Come on, let's take a walk."
We stood up from the bench and walked toward the water. I took hold of Rikki's hand for no other reason except I'd discovered that I liked touching her.
As much time as I spent on my board in the waves, the ocean looked like an entirely different entity at night. Under the night sky it looked bottomless and dark and uninviting, sort of like Wynter.
I sensed that Rikki was still fretting about the possibility that the ghouls had eaten her father. "I know it's hard, but try not to think the worst, Rikki. Feenix is pretty much an asshole, but he does some things right. He has put severe punishments in place for ghouls who are caught eating human flesh. Those iron gibbets that hang over the stone path leading to Feenix's lair are for ghouls who break the law. I've seen a few ghouls rot away in those cages. Feenix leaves them up there for a long time as a stark reminder. I'm going to find time to get over to Vapour's cave. I'll have a look inside. Not sure what I'll find but it's a start."
Rikki turned and moved closer, close enough for me to wrap my arms around her and haul her against me for a kiss. Instead I kept my arms to my sides.
"I want to come with you."
I laughed. "No, too dangerous. You don't belong in a place like that."
She crossed her arms and looked up at me. "Maybe I should remind you that I don't exactly spend my day working in a national park telling campers where to picnic. I shuffle the souls of society's least desirables across the river to their ugly eternity. And stop treating me like a kid. It's irritating. I might be small, but I'm big inside."
I gazed down at her and couldn't help thinking how much I wanted to kiss her. So fucking adorable. "If I don't take you, you're just going to go by yourself, aren't you?"
"Damn right."
"Fine but we'll go together. Don't get it in that pretty, impatient head of yours to do it alone. Vapour's realm makes Feenix's end of the underworld look like paradise.”
"Please, how bad could it be?"
I had a good laugh as I took hold of her hand and led her back to the motorcycle. Of course the real joke was on me. I was Maximus, the asshole the Wynter Fare had nicknamed Ironheart because I rarely woke up without at least two women naked in my bed. Only now I'd found a woman I couldn't even work up the courage to kiss from fear that it would break my iron heart into a million pieces.
Twelve
Rikki
How bad could it be? The question had rolled off my lips so casually. I'd even added a glib shrug of the shoulders to assure Maximus I wasn't the least bit concerned about Vapour's realm. What a silly ignoramus I was. Maybe Maximus had every right to treat me like a kid. All I knew was that I couldn't have stood closer to the man if I was glued onto his back.
In Vapour's corner of the world, the darkness was a comfort. It kept me from seeing things I was sure I didn't want to see, things that were so hideous th
ey would be permanently etched into my eyeballs. The heavy mist that always shrouded the river was gone, evaporated by the heat. We were moving closer to the molten core of the planet, and each step brought us closer to an unbearable, suffocating heat. Maximus had warned me to leave my cloak and hood behind and he'd been right. Sweat glued my shirt and jeans to my skin. My hair felt wet as if I'd just stepped out of a hot shower.
The craggy, sharp silhouettes of the rocks and cliffs surrounding Vapour's realm looked as if at any second they might shoot forward and grab us like jagged claws. But it wasn't so much the bleak, frightening landscape and lack of light that made it so gruesome, it was the grim, desolate feeling that had swept through me with almost my first step into the realm. It felt as if I would never be the same once I left the place, as if I needed to hold on to my own soul or risk losing it to the dreary surroundings. My head, limbs and, indeed, my heart felt heavy with a melancholy the likes of which I'd never experienced before. I'd never been in a place so devoid of hope and light, and I longed to never return to Vapour's realm again.
As the inexplicable depression wracked my body, wringing out any joy or sense that life could ever be good again, I felt in my heart that I'd lost my dad forever. I would have broken into sobs, but I'd convinced Maximus that I could handle the journey into the deepest crevice of the underworld. I didn't want to embarrass myself by crumbling into a tearful mess.
I could see that the ghastly landscape had slowed Maximus's steps some, but he kept his shoulders strong and confident as he hiked cautiously over the serrated black rocks. It was that tenacity that helped lighten some of the burden from my mind. His massive size and fearlessness didn't hurt either. It was why I stuck close enough to him that even in the intensely heated atmosphere, I could feel the heat of courage and determination roll off his body.
Once again, Maximus had taken a chance in helping me. As the others rode off on their horses to return to Cliffmoor, Maximus hung back, making up the excuse that he had to talk to Steemer about something. His mates had looked slightly dumbfounded and not terribly convinced by his excuse.