Brandywine Investigations

by Angel Martinez

  "So what were you doing?"

  "Oh, nothing. Messing around."

  "I see. Just being your trickster-god self?"

  Azeban dredged up a cheeky grin that probably would've looked ghastly on his human face. Part of him was relieved to see Charon, even pleased, but he was too on edge to think of something witty and clever. "Yeah. That's me. Always up to no good."

  "You don't have to put on the act for me, Az." Charon set his book aside, leaning his bony elbows on his bony knees. "Kau's trapped somewhere you can't get to him. You were seeing if the books could help you fly."

  "Whatever." Azeban shrugged. "You don't have to believe me. I was just being stupid. What's the big, honking book?"

  "A bit of research." The sharp-toothed smile Charon offered was clear as crystal. You don't tell me things, why should I tell you things? "How do you like the library?"

  Azeban scratched at his stomach fur. "It's cool, I guess. Would be even cooler if there was something besides books."

  "There are other artifacts stored here. But yes, it's a library. There are bound to be books."

  "Ha. I think there was a pun in there somewhere." Azeban wanted to laugh. It would've been polite. Nothing came out. "You like to read stuff, I guess."

  "I do. Not always dry histories like this one." Charon waved a hand at the book he'd been lugging around. "I've enjoyed reading fiction ever since humans began writing their stories down."

  "See, that kinda made me sad. When they started doing that." Azeban sat on his haunches like a proper raccoon, gesturing at the shelves. "All these stories are stuck. They can't change. When humans used to tell each other stories, stuff changed all the time. It was exciting to hear what they'd do with a story. Now they write it down, and that's it. That's the story."

  Charon's smile softened, becoming something warmer. Kinder. He reached out and waited until, paw in hand, he could draw Azeban up against his side and stroke his shoulder fur. "You might be surprised. Humans still love to retell stories. To tell them in new ways. Just because one of them writes it down, that doesn't mean another won't try a different version."

  "Yeah?"

  Charon let out a sharp laugh. "Don't look at me like that, Az. I wouldn't say it if it weren't true. Wait here a bit for me."

  Azeban waited, nibbling on his remaining slice of bread. He hoped the pandas didn't get in trouble over him leaving crumbs on the floor. He was just using the sides of his paws to sweep the abandoned crumbs into a pile when Charon strode back around the corner with another book under his arm. This one was almost as long as the ferryman's arm and bound in bright-blue cloth, with little paintings all over the front cover.

  "Good. You didn't run off." Charon settled on the floor again, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he leaned back against the bookcase. He opened the book and gestured to Azeban to come closer again.

  It was a beautiful book, with strange angular letters and tiny detailed paintings in jewel tones and gold. He reached out a paw to stroke the page carefully, stealing a glance up at Charon's face to see if he was allowed to touch. Charon just reached out an arm and dragged Azeban closer so he could see the pages properly.

  "This is a book of stories. What the humans call comparative folklore. The same stories told by different people who might have been separated by location or time. Would you like me to read you some?"

  The way Charon said it wasn't sneering or condescending, like he didn't expect Azeban to be able to read the strange writing. It was an open, honest offer to share something Charon liked. It warmed a chilled spot in Azeban's belly and made the backs of his eyes sting.

  "Yeah. I mean, if you want."

  Charon smoothed the page and began, his deep voice vibrating through Azeban's bones. "Once there was a miller who had a beautiful daughter…"

  As Charon read, Azeban wriggled closer until he'd snuggled up onto Charon's lap, his ear resting against Charon's crisp white shirt so his words seemed to surround Azeban. In an impetuous moment, he lifted his head and planted a quick kiss on Charon's lips. The ferryman blinked at him but didn't jerk back or dump him out of his lap.

  "What was that for?" Charon murmured, his gaze never leaving Azeban's face.

  "A thank-you. For being so nice. But this…" He'd lost his mind somewhere, but Charon was right there, so close and warm. Azeban took his face between his hands and leaned in, waiting for Charon to object or yank back. Neither happened. Emboldened, Azeban pressed their lips together in a soft, searching kiss, electric butterflies dancing in his stomach when Charon responded, his lips engaged in tender exploration. Reluctantly, Azeban pulled back. "That was because I wanted to."

  "I see." Charon reached up and combed a claw through Azeban's hair. "Would you think less of me if I told you I've wanted that too?"

  "I am pretty shady, so I probably should disapprove. But no."

  "Good. Now am I reading to you or not?"

  Azeban snuggled back against Charon's chest, pleased when Charon resumed. The guilt never quite faded, but the fear did as he listened to story after story, wrapped safe in the dread ferryman's arms.

  Charon found himself oddly distracted the next day, humming bits of tunes he couldn't quite place, fighting to concentrate. Luckily, he had no appointments on the calendar, and the business had no incoming clients. He took advantage of the downtime to check through supplies and work on some more obituary mapping with Yvonne and Vincent.

  His staff did most of the work, since he kept drifting off into memories of holding a certain raccoon god in his arms. Azeban had listened to two stories snuggled in Charon's lap in raccoon form, then had raced off and returned in his human aspect in nothing but T-shirt and sweats, his bare feet slapping on the tiled floor as he pelted back. Charon had been surprised that Azeban had wanted his lap spot again, but with a little maneuvering, they'd managed. Az had even snuck a couple of kisses, the first one just a peck and the second a hint more lingering, before Az snuggled back against Charon's chest again.

  It had felt so… natural. So warm and comforting. Az had been an appreciative audience. He'd actually been relaxed for the first time Charon had seen since the night Az had stolen the watch. He'd—

  "Boss, it's the same all over." Yvonne shook her head. "Very few notices after the tenth."

  "And those are all kids," Vincent added in a hushed tone.

  Charon glanced over the list and found himself searching the birthdates more assiduously the second time through. "This can't be right. It's not just that they're children. Every single obituary is for a child who never reached a first birthday."

  "All babies." Yvonne shook her head. "Boss, you think this is some horrible worldwide hacking thing?"

  "At the moment, I can't imagine what else. So much coincidence would threaten to rip every thread out of the loom of reality."

  Yvonne gave him a look that was partly fond and mostly exasperated. "Very poetic, but maybe a little over the top?"

  "Well, not terribly. There is an actual weave of reality. Not a loom, per se… Never mind. It's just not right."

  Vincent's pallor almost matched Charon's own, except poor Vincent's wasn't natural. If their embalming assistant lasted the week, Charon was going to have the talk with him. He obviously realized Charon wasn't a garden-variety funeral director already. "What if… what if it's not a computer thing? What if the universe is, like, broken?"

  Charon rose from his chair. "Inelegantly put but, yes. If the universe is, like, broken, we're all on an open sewage river without any means of propulsion."

  Though Vincent didn't speak, his entire being said What?

  "Up shit creek without a paddle." Yvonne patted her co-worker's shoulder. "Mr. Stygian thinks he's funny sometimes."

  "I am funny sometimes." Charon sniffed in offense. "Right now though, I think I need to do some research. Hold down the fort, Yvonne. I'll check in later."

  Vincent whispered as Charon headed for the front door, "What kind of—"

  "Kid." Yvonne
cut him off. "We don't ask those things. And honestly? You probably don't want to know. Let it go."

  Some planar shifts were trickier than others. Charon straightened his suit jacket, attained a firm fix on his next position, and stepped up out of the mortal world. Several strides up a non-existent staircase later, he walked out into a green meadow perpetually bathed by the light of a setting sun. Behind him, the meadow vanished into bright, curling mist. Before him lay a scene of such warmth and beauty that even a fearsome and cynical ancient being might be moved to tears.

  Of course, Charon had been here before, so he only had to wipe at his eyes once or twice.

  The planks and railings of the arch bridge appeared to be wood that glowed with prismatic brilliance from within. None of the material was actually wood but light gathered and bent in such a way that it mimicked boards and posts and so on to help the spirits crossing over by giving them something familiar. The near end anchored in the grass of wildflowers of the sun-drenched meadow, while the far end ran off into the sunset clouds, painted bright shades of yellow, orange, and blue.

  As Charon breathed the clean wildflower scents, the spirit of a Shetland pony trotted past him and straight over the bridge without hesitation, vanishing into the bright cloud bank with a happy toss of his mane. A golden retriever followed a moment later, bounding across the meadow. She stopped by Charon, tail wagging in frenetic feathered sweeps designed to clear a coffee table.

  "In answer to the age-old question, Who's a good girl?" Charon bent to give her head a few quick pets before he pointed to the bridge. "You are. Go on now."

  She jumped up to lick his face enthusiastically, though spirit licks didn't leave any slobber behind, then dashed off to the bridge, where she stopped again to watch an African-gray parrot sidestepping back and forth along the railing.

  "Go, doggy, go!" the parrot squawked at her, at which the retriever barked once and bounded off across the bridge.

  Charon strolled to the end of the bridge, conjuring a spirit nut from the air as he walked. "Hello, Alex. You're still here?"

  Alex the parrot bobbed his head three times. "Waiting for Irene!"

  "It's not really likely Irene will come this way, you know. We talked about this."

  "Waiting. For. Irene," Alex repeated with undeniable emphasis.

  "Fine. Be that way. I suppose Irene is special. Who knows?" Charon held up the ghost nut. "Have you seen himself lately?"

  "Want nut."

  "Answer first, Alex. Then nut. Have you seen Uriel?"

  "Nut."

  Charon let out a soft growl. "I can put the nut away."

  Parrots didn't sigh naturally but Alex did. "Kittens."

  "He had to get some kittens?"

  "Yes."

  "Thank you." Charon handed over the nut, which Alex grasped with his ghost claws and went through the motions of eating. For his part, Charon leaned against the bridge's end post to wait.

  No lord of the dead ruled here at the Rainbow Bridge, and no human spirits, despite Alex's stubborn hopes, ever crossed here. Charon could comfortably visit the near side, and sometimes did to be sure no lost animal spirits milled about in confusion. He wasn't the only death guide to do so, and Uriel, as an angel of death, often took it upon himself to guide lost ghosts to the meadow.

  Alex had just finished his nut when an enormous Great Pyrenees crested over the hill and loped into the meadow. Between his teeth, he held the handle of a woven basket, and in the basket were seven wriggling, mewing kittens. When he neared the bridge, he set the basket down and gently nudged it onto its side so the kittens could climb out. Only when they had waddled past Charon and had scampered over the bridge did the huge dog shake himself to fluff his thick white coat and sit down.

  "Hello, Char. Are you helping today?"

  Charon bent to discourage a lagging kitten from playing with his shoelace, which would have been frustrating, since it was corporeal, and she was not, and nudged her onto the bridge. "Hello, Uriel. Not today. I did hope to find you here though." He nodded toward the small pride making their slow kitten way toward the rainbow clouds. "House fire?"

  "Yes, sad to say. Mama cat crossed over hours ago. I think she assumed her kittens would follow." Uriel managed to frown, even with a dog's face. He wasn't always a dog, but there was something of big friendly canine about him no matter what form he chose. "I hate when it's little ones. But I don't think you came to see me about kittens."

  "No. Not today, at any rate. Have you noticed anything odd with the human spirit foot traffic this week?"

  Uriel reached up with a hind leg to scratch his ear. "Well, I haven't been topside in a bit. Haven't had a big influx in the past week, so they didn't need me. Was there something to notice?"

  "Probably not. The obits seem to have vanished, all of them except for infant deaths. I suspect human computer nonsense over anything else. Keep an ear out for me though?"

  Both ears came up at that. Always tricky to know if an angel was being a smartass. "Of course. Your number still the same?"

  "It is."

  "Great." Uriel bounced up to his feet, his great, feathered tail wagging. "I'll text you if I hear of anything odd going on."

  Charon tipped an imaginary hat. "Much obliged. My regards to the heavenly hosts."

  Stygian: Private Investigator. No dead end left unturned. Ah, well, it was worth the trip.

  He checked his phone as he returned to the human world beside the condo. No messages meant no disasters. Good. Nearly the end of the workday as well, so there was no need to return to the office. Charon checked his pocket watch, which revealed that he had time to look in on Az before he went up to start his lordship's dinner. Not that his lordship had been eating much these days. Still, it was nice to sit down to dinner, the three of them.

  The door to the master bedroom was closed when he went up, with neither Lord Hades nor Ti in sight, so perhaps someone had enjoyed a nice afternoon. The door to the study, however, stood open.

  Charon straightened the already neat stack of papers on his lordship's desk and called up the library door in all its ominous dark-wood splendor. As a dimensional door, it wasn't merely hidden from ordinary sight until summoned. It had to be physically called to appear as an interface between planes. Not long ago, anyone with the ability could have done so. Since the Bull of the Sun fiasco, the door only answered to Charon and his lordship. Nothing would be allowed to endanger the library and its librarian like that again.

  Bits of sandwich remains decorated the plate Charon had left on the central coffee table in Lord Hades' library study. A few crumbs had made their way to the floor as well, but Az hadn't made too much of a mess. The panda assistants would make sure Az was fed, but Charon wanted to be sure he had some meat protein available too. Fellow omnivores needed variety.

  The blankets Charon had left on the sofa were undisturbed, leading him to believe that the little raccoon god had slept with the pandas for warmth and comfort. Good. Before leaving the study, Charon closed his eye and reached outward with his inner sense to determine who was here. While the library was neutral ground, he'd never been able to break the habit of checking his immediate surroundings for enemies. Thoth, probably in his study. Young Lord Dionysus is here somewhere. That's good. Apollo—best avoided, but he'll be involved with his own research.

  No one else pinged on his personal radar other than the library denizens. Catching the Eternal Library on a slow day was more than acceptable. A quick search turned up Dionysus in the Papyrus Collection, in the open space with its chairs and its long table designed for rolling out and studying scrolls. Dressed in one of his more conservative outfits—black jeans with ankle boots, a black T-shirt with rock star Hello Kitty, and a long black-velvet coat—the god of wine and orgies slouched in one of the larger chairs, ostensibly reading the paper. Actual absorption of any printed material was doubtful, however, since he held the business section in front of his face.

  "My Lord Dio?" Charon spoke softly so he wouldn't
send Dio flying out of his seat. He was trying hard to appear relaxed, but his knuckles were white from gripping the paper so hard. "Taking an interest in the market, are we?"

  Dio twitched before he stuck his head around the paper. "Oh, hey, Char. No, no. Can't make a damn bit of sense of this gobbledy-gib. Why's it called the market, anyway? Like there's only one? There's tons of markets everywhere. Anyway. No. I'm working very hard at not noticing things."

  "Hmm. I see." Charon leaned a hip against the table and regarded his lordship's favorite nephew seriously. "What is it you're so intent on overlooking? And why would you be so desperately engaged in ignoring things?"

  "It's a game."

  Well, obviously. "I would hate to be breaking the rules, my young lord. Should I be ignoring you?"

  Dio rolled his eyes. "It's not about ignoring me. I hate being ignored. It's about ignoring Az."

  "Ah. Is he practicing how not to be seen?" A ringed tail flashed behind one of the shelves. "He's not doing the best job of it."

  "Shh. Don't look at him!" Dio hissed frantically as he dove back behind his newspaper. "I'm not supposed to know where he is so I can't give, you know, subconsciousy clues."

  All traces of Azeban had vanished again by the time Bingley and Emma came racing along on their short panda legs. Bingley stood on his hind legs and chittered at Charon while patting his knee with one paw.

  "No," Charon said quite seriously, though he wanted to laugh at Bingley's earnestness. "I was given to understand that I wasn't supposed to tell you."

  Bingley chuffed, then squeaked when Emma cuffed him. They tussled for a moment before Emma sat up and chittered at some length.

  "Azeban hides the books, and you try to see how quickly you can find them? That's a clever game. Though with the way you're attuned to the books, it hardly seems fair."

  Emma raised both front paws and squeaked in an irritated fashion.

  "Ha. Oh, I see. He keeps moving them, and you haven't caught up to him yet. I can understand how that would be annoying." Charon bent to stroke one white-tipped ear. "But I won't cheat for you."