“What did you do to get fired?” I was not afraid to pry.
“Stole Deathlists.”
“Why?”
“Deathlists tell Reapers who they are supposed to ferry. I wanted to know who was on my list.” It seemed a logical explanation but there certainly was more to it.
“Let me guess. You found out you had to ferry your beloved, right?” I said with a shit-eating grin.
He looked away and refused to say anything in response. Of course, his silent reaction was enough to fill my face with heat.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “That was insensitive.”
“Consider us even.”
Brent wanting to save someone he loved from himself explained a lot. Or maybe not enough. I was unsure. Nonetheless, he had experience in pilfering information, something important to helping Eve.
“You know, access to their Deathlists would make it easier for Reapers to get their assignments,” I said, trying to avoid further awkward conversation.
“Sure, but entire lists aren’t supposed to go public. If one got into the wrong hands, it would be bad news for humans.” He didn’t need to explain further. I was already envisioning a Reaper ticking off his human assignments like he was blazing through a hundred-mile long grocery list to avoid a Level Five or higher Offense. That was another reason why Scriveners were so vital to Styx—they kept Reapers from ferrying too many souls at the wrong time.
Except this time I was trying to prevent a soul from getting ferried at the right time.
“We have to find the Reaper responsible for Eve,” Brent said.
“Then what?”
“We keep him from ferrying Eve until she gets her business in order.”
“You are willing to risk Erebus to give her some extra time?”
“There’s a caveat.” The muscles in his forearms rippled with tension. I enjoyed the effect of his nerves on his body, but I had a bad feeling about what he was about to say. “I’ll help Eve if you help me.”
I stared at him. I couldn’t stop myself. I should’ve seen this coming.
“I will do whatever I can to make Eve’s last days good ones, but only if you agree to my plans,” he said.
Then I laughed. And I hooted until my sides started to tighten.
“Ollie, it’s not funny.”
Perhaps he needed me to stop, as if my amusement mocked him in some way. What he failed to notice was that while, sure, his suggestion was idiotic, my laughter stemmed from a feeling deep inside of me that was not ridicule, or even fear of his proposition. In fact, I liked the idea, and that scared the shit out of me.
“No,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Nope.”
“You’re confusing me.”
I wiped tears of amusement from my eyes. “I know.”
“Are you okay with this?”
“You’re blackmailing me.”
“That’s a tough word. I’d like to call it exchanging favors.”
Nothing in life is free. Brent would risk his neck to help me with my trouble and, in return, I would risk mine to help with his. This proposal would be an easy one if it were as simple as borrowing someone’s car in return for doing their laundry. You know, ordinary things.
Brent was talking about bending the rules of Death, ones I had abided by for my entire life. In exchange he wanted to challenge the big guy. Erebus was a very real notion for us if we failed.
And yet. Eve. I couldn’t let my part in her fate go. I couldn’t ignore the gut-eating remorse. One human should not have had such an effect on me, but she did, and it was too late to let it all fall by the wayside. I cared for her. For that, I owed her.
After clearing my eyes of tears and forcing a smile that Brent undoubtedly saw through, I said with a quiver in my voice, “Seems like a ridiculous plan, going into the Registry Vault.”
“I didn’t say it was a perfect plan. We can give Eve a chance at something that few humans ever get— the time to say good-bye. That’s the best gift we can give her.” He had been serious when he said he had a plan. It hadn’t been some ploy to get into my bed, which, right then, might’ve been more appealing. And this plot was, without a doubt, treasonous.
“I don’t know,” I said when I realized he was awaiting my response. “What if we convinced Eve to get the Deathmark removed? I know of a place. It’s called Bad Decisions Tattoo Removal, a couple blocks from here.”
“It’s a Deathmark. It’s not going away because someone puts a laser to it.”
I had been tracing filigree on my thighs. My fingertips were warm, so I had to have been doing it for a while. I shook out my hands. “Where is this Registry Vault?”
“Under the city, inside Cape Diamond. It’s where Marin does his broadcasting and official work. Calls it Lethe.”
“That’s where Marin is hiding?” I about jumped to my feet but stopped when Brent’s face whitened. I continued in a serene but pressing voice. “Brent, the rebels would die to know Marin’s hideout. Imagine if they could voice their complaints directly to him instead of posting to some blog or shouting at protests. They’d go straight to the—”
“I thought you didn’t want to get involved in a rebellion?”
“I don’t,” I sniped. “I was speaking of the rebels, not me.”
He might’ve rolled his eyes. I couldn’t be sure. “There will come a day when Lethe will be exposed, but not now. Styx isn’t ready yet. Neither are you.” His biting conviction put an end to my case. “Promise you won’t tell anyone about it, not even Ms. Lorelei and Mr. Stone. This is serious. I have to know you will keep mum.”
He could depend on me, sure, but how could I keep Lethe secret from my parents? All they had ever wanted was to voice their frustrations to Marin. Knowing where to find him would give them that chance.
“You are serious, aren’t you?” I muttered.
“That’s why I need you to keep this between us. Mouth shut.”
“So we really are gonna be like Batman and Robin,” I said.
He raked his fingers through his hair. Chestnut threads fell over his forehead. As I had done so many times with my own hair, I brushed his back from his eyes. Brent looked at me as if I was his long-lost love touching him for the first time. His expression faded quickly when I retracted my hand.
“In Lethe, I’ll find the name of Eve’s Reaper,” he explained. “Then I’ll keep whoever it is at bay, at least until Chad and the Watchmen start to notice something is up. You don’t have to be involved. I’ll go into Lethe alone. Your hands will stay clean.”
“No. I want to do this with you. I’ll go into Lethe with you.” My voice was stern, and though Brent seemed to want to argue further about my involvement, he didn’t. Perhaps he knew better.
The room felt like it was closing in around us. Level Ten meant a healthy eternity in Erebus. Sighing, I slouched into the couch cushions. Brent watched every move I made.
“When do we do this?” I asked.
“Tonight.”
Perhaps running headlong into danger was better than thinking about it for too long.
“Promise to keep quiet about Lethe.” Brent’s eyes had turned bright yellow. “There’s a reason Marin keeps Lethe secret. Reapers would flock there to bargain for less work on their Lists. Marin won’t hear their requests. Death despises bartering.”
As I understood it, Death doesn’t barter at all. Dead was dead. There was no middle ground. That slice of truth made me uneasy over what we were about to do.
Chapter Eight
“If we knew from where Death comes,
could we thwart his approach.”
– HermesHarbinger.com, 10:50 pm ET February 27th
“We can’t fit in there,” I griped when Brent lifted the manhole cover in front of a sleepy apartment building in Old Town. I scanned left and right. No Watchmen were lurking that I could tell. “Can’t we go another way?”
“I told you already. We have to go through a drainpipe behind the
Château. We can’t use the front door like polite folk.”
Brent had told me there was an official entrance into Lethe in Québec City’s most famous hotel. Le Château Frontenac sat atop Cape Diamond, looming over the Saint Lawrence River like a red brick fortress. When I had asked him why Québec City had been chosen as the entry point for all of humanity into the Afterlife, Brent had answered that Marin was a big fan of Canadian weather, hockey, and maple syrup.
From his pithy description after I had pushed further—because his joke was neither funny nor helpful—I had deduced that the world-renowned hotel sitting atop Cape Diamond was a brick-and-mortar façade to keep humans from spying too deeply into the inner workings of Styx’s hidden lair. Québec City, built on top of a three hundred foot escarpment, was the perfect place for Marin to hide out underground and yet move easily in and out of Lethe as he wished. No one would ever suspect Canada to be the gateway to the Underworld. Too nice.
Disappointing really. Since I was a little girl, I had seen the Château as an enchanted castle of a lucky princess. It was magical, but mysterious.
I now wished I didn’t know that underneath it the top Grim Reaper was up to things he couldn’t share with humans or his lowly Stygians.
Guess that explained why Québec City was the only fortified city in North America—it had something very important to hide.
“Isn’t there a safer way to get down there?” I peered into the rabbit hole.
“This is as safe as it’s gonna get. If you’re not okay, then stay here.”
I gave him a hard stare. I barely saw Brent’s face in his all-black ninja outfit, save for a sliver of his steely gaze.
“You go first,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you…er, above you.”
“I’ll go second. Rather be on top.”
“I’ll remember that for the bedroom.” His voice dripped with suggestions of things we had no business pursuing here in the middle of Old Town. “You’re not strong enough to pull the drain lid back.”
“But if we do that we might have trouble getting out if they come after us.”
“We’re not coming back this way.”
“How are we getting out?” I asked.
“There’s a tributary from Lethe that empties into the Saint Lawrence. We’ll swim out.”
I wouldn’t faint. I wouldn’t be that woman. “Brent, swimming isn’t my thing.”
He almost dropped the manhole cover to catch me if I collapsed. Oddly, I preferred the idea of him wrapping his arms around me and carrying me home instead of whatever hell we were about to enter into… Just as long as Papa and Mama didn’t make a surprise visit, of course.
“I’m a fine swimmer. I’ll help you,” he soothed.
This was bad. A narrow tunnel? An exit we would have to swim out of? Why had I insisted on going with him? I should have left the expert to his job. I should have told him this was stupid. “That’s why we have these goggles?” was the best I came up with.
He patted his pocket where he had stuffed a Ziploc bag, triple-checking that it was there. “We have to keep the name of Eve’s Reaper in this bag. Wouldn’t do us any good if it got wet and the ink bled.”
“We can’t recall one stinking name?”
I think he grinned, but I couldn’t see his mouth, only the squint of his eyes. “We’re going into Lethe.”
“So?”
“You don’t know your Stygian history, do you?”
“You’ve never been given a purple nurple have you?” I hissed.
“Ollie, Lethe is the Realm of Forgetfulness. We won’t remember anything that happens in there after we leave. Sort of like Las Vegas. What happens in Lethe stays in Lethe…in a manner of speaking.”
“Won’t we forget everything about our lives?” I should’ve asked this sooner.
“No, only what happens in Lethe.” He smirked as I struggled to articulate a smartass comeback. “Relax, kitten. Forgetting what happens isn’t nearly as bad as the free fall we’ll take to get out of Lethe.”
“F-free fall?” Suddenly all I wanted to do was grab his hand and run like mad back to my apartment. There are levels of bad choices. Riding cowgirl on a sexy Eidolon was a less severe choice over free falling out of the underground lair of the king of death.
My thoughts went right back to Eve’s face as I worked the skull into her arm. She had spent the entire sitting holding back tears so she wouldn’t appear weak, or ungrateful for her birthday gift.
Fear of heights, or of dying with my head up Brent’s ass if he slipped on the ladder, would not matter if I didn’t try to do what I knew was right. So, I pulled the goggles over my eyes, casting my vision into shades of gray.
I would do it.
For Eve’s chance to say good-bye with dignity to her mother.
I climbed onto the metal ladder that led into the vertical tunnel, and descended into a darkness heavy with the stink of mold. The rungs were icy. My heart thumped. My hands shook so badly I was forced to grip the rungs tighter. If I could have felt my legs, I was sure they, too, were quivering. But somehow, some way, I climbed down.
“How much further?” I whispered after a couple minutes of steady descent.
“Twenty feet.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t remember.” His chuckle echoed.
“Son of a bitch.” My heartbeat counted the seconds until my feet hit the floor.
Brent was right. Twenty feet.
Thank Hades and all his ladies.
I stepped off the ladder and looked around, my headlamp swinging back and forth. I was in a tunnel carved out of bedrock. Wide enough for one body, it went in only one direction. The stone was smooth and shiny.
Water dripped between crevices, trickling into a rivulet in the center of the tunnel. I knew who would be going first through this mine of stone—me—because I was not about to follow with my head up Brent’s Moonpie.
“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” He wedged himself next to me. Had we been lovers, the closeness would have been tantalizing, but ringing in the back of my head was Papa’s warning. Papa had been right about all the other Reapers I had dated. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was right about Brent, too. But the other question that I had been asking myself was, what if Brent wasn’t like the others?
“We’re halfway there,” Brent said.
“Let’s go then.” I figured I had roughly ten minutes left before I self-destructed.
He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Not that way.”
I looked behind him, where there was nothing but a wall of bedrock. “What other way are we—”
His eyes bled into the piercing rubies I remembered from my apartment. That would’ve been okay had I not watched his body give way to his demonic shadow. The sight of his darkness punctuated by blood red specks drained the breath from me. And too soon icy fingers enveloped me in a bear hug. I stared down an Eidolon, and he was not as playful as his humanoid counterpart.
“What are you doing?”
“What you can’t,” his dark alter-ego rumbled. “Trust me.”
When a gelatinous weight pressed against me, I tensed. He lifted me up. Pain like a fever saturated my bones. My teeth chattered so violently they risked cracking when I exploded into convulsions.
This was not how I imagined my first bodily encounter with a sexy lumberjack would be. Who would?
Nevertheless, Brent had said to trust him. I did. I had to. Whatever he was doing, I had no expectation of fighting him off. I was his whether I trusted him or not. So, I burrowed within myself, thinking of tranquility, of Dudley fetching his favorite tennis ball in the park across from my apartment.
Breath returned as fast as it had left. Wintriness evaporated, and I was warm again. I opened my eyes to see that the man, not the apparition, knelt at my side.
“Welcome to Lethe. Try the veal,” Brent said.
We were in the tunnel. Behind me there was a wall of rock like the one that had been behind Brent. The tunnel
ahead of us looked exactly the same, except that…
“We’re facing a different direction. What did you do?”
“It’s an Eidolon trick. Half-death. I possessed you so I could ferry you through the rock.” He flicked on his headlamp and pulled a small leather booklet from his pocket, removed it carefully from a plastic sleeve, and flipped through the pages until he came upon a hand drawn map. “Not exactly how I wanted to get inside your g-string, but I’ll take it.”
If he knew the g-string had green polka dots, I would have to kill him.
“That’s all we needed to do to get into Lethe?”
“Sure, because ferrying you through thirty feet of solid bedrock is really not that complicated. Try it some time.”
I resisted when he pushed me forward. “Couldn’t humans drill through it?”
“They’ve tried.”
“What happened?”
“Sudden mine collapse. No survivors. Catch my drift?”
I caught it. And I shuddered.
“What’s that?” I pointed to the booklet.
He was quick to slap it shut, put it back inside the plastic, and tuck it in his pocket. “It’s a map of Lethe that I drew up ages ago. Now let’s get moving.” He scooted aside and swept a hand out toward the passageway. “Crawl until you reach the third metal grill.”
I rolled onto my hands and knees without a lick of grace then twisted to face the tunnel. With Brent’s face and headlamp right up my girly bits, I crawled. Oddly, Brent’s proximity I could handle.
Heights and water? Not so much.
I slowed to gaze down the narrow shaft after clearing several feet. There was no light except for my headlamp sweeping back and forth. How far would we crawl? Would we creep into a trap?
For the second time, Brent rammed my derriere with his headlamp. This wouldn’t have been an issue if he didn’t have the forward momentum of a buffalo.
“I assumed the first time was an accident. Now, you’re getting personal, Hume.”
“You’re too slow.”
Had I been on wheels strapped to a jet pack I couldn’t have crawled faster. I kicked, catching his shoulder with my boot heel. “Back off.”
“Go faster.”
The Reaper's Kiss Page 8