Brandywine Investigations

by Angel Martinez

  Another set of panda claws came clicking down the section's main aisle, Jane making a more dignified entrance.

  "Good afternoon, Jane." Charon gave the senior library assistant a polite bow. "I wonder if you might be able to intervene. The rules of this game seem terribly cruel to his lordship."

  Jane sat and scratched behind her ear with one black-socked back paw. "Chek."

  "Yes, I know it's an exercise for the youngsters, but poor Lord Dionysus is very nearly crawling out of his skin trying to be good and not interfere."

  "Krrr." Jane regarded Dio for a long moment, then patted his knee and chittered her approval.

  "Yes!" Papers flew everywhere as Dio leapt to his feet, fist pumped, then vaulted over the back of his chair, which remained miraculously standing. "I get to play. Come on, panda cuties!"

  Dio had the unfair advantage of knowing where Azeban had just been, and his hunting instincts took over from there. Charon waited, hands clasped behind his back, whistling tunelessly, until a triumphant cry pierced the silence between the stacks, followed by the sounds of a scuffle and an aggrieved raccoon god.

  "Hey! Get the fu—"

  As more thuds and protests followed, Charon felt it a reasonable moment to intervene. Finding them was simplicity itself. He only needed to follow the noise. When he reached them, they were sprawled in the aisle between shelves, with Dio scrabbling to keep hold of a now human-aspect and naked Azeban and Az trying claw his way free. For Dio, laughing and spitting good-natured curses, it was all still a game. For Azeban, it had obviously slid into something else. His eyes were huge in panic, and the noises from his throat were choked and desperate.

  "Let go, you asshat!" Az finally managed to squeak out as he landed a heavy kick to Dio's chest.

  "Watch the leather!" Dio rolled to the side, still laughing, until he finally caught sight of Azeban's expression. "Hey… hey… I didn't tackle hard. I wasn't… You okay? You're not okay. That's a really un-okay face."

  With a barely subdued sigh of exasperation, Charon seized Dio by the back of his coat and set him on his feet, away from Azeban. The reaction had been extreme, Azeban's anxiety and fear obviously coming to an unhappy boil, and Charon showing his own frustration with the situation would be less than helpful. Holy Mother of Night. If he'd only say something and let Charon help, let him erase the anguish in Azeban's eyes.

  He fully expected Azeban to return to raccoon form and scurry away. Instead, Az shocked him by throwing himself against Charon and wrapping his arms around Charon's waist. There he clung, shivering and quite unrelievedly stark naked.

  A hand of flame clamped around Charon's heart, and he stood frozen and stunned for an unbearable, eternal moment. The bits of need and want he'd shoved into back closets in his mind exploded and collided, a whirlwind inferno. He wanted—oh, he wanted—to hold and protect, to conjure the right words for things he didn't have the fortitude to say, to tell Azeban, It's all right. I can be your shelter and your comfort.

  Slowly, he managed to fold an arm around Azeban's shoulders, gently, afraid to hold too tight. "Az. No one will hurt you here."

  "It was just a game," Dio broke in, his voice suffuse with shame. "Was just playing, Az."

  "Hush, my young lord. I doubt you're helping." Charon stroked the shaggy hair plastered against his chest. "Az, should we… find your clothes?"

  "There's no trees," Azeban whispered, his fingers clenching in Charon's shirtfront. "No dirt. No wind. I can't catch my breath in this trap. I can't breathe."

  Azeban lifted bloodshot eyes to Charon as he flickered, phasing in and out of existence but never quite vanishing. Of course Azeban knew he couldn't use the spirit paths here. It had to be a panic reaction.

  Charon took that desperate face between his hands, leaning close. "Az, just focus here. On me. We'll get you something to eat. Read for a bit—"

  With a strangled, feral cry, Azeban tore away and ran. He'd attained raccoon form before he reached the end of the shelves, and he raced off into the library's maze on four feet.

  From behind Charon, Dionysus protested, "Char, I didn't—"

  Charon turned and threw an arm around the stricken god of wine's shoulders. "I very much doubt that had much to do with you. He got all worked up with the book-hiding game, and all his issues had a pile-up on the adrenaline interstate. Let him be for now."

  With a last pat, Charon sent Dionysus off in search of Leander, and he went off in search of Azeban to try once more to soothe him. It proved a fruitless exercise. While Charon could track him through the library, Azeban obviously knew he was being tracked and never stopped moving through the maze. Charon finally gave up with a stone lodged above his heart, knowing he was only exacerbating Azeban's agitation by persisting.

  It was past time to go home himself. Left to their own devices, Lord Hades and Ti would end up having peanut-butter-and-marshmallow-fluff sandwiches for dinner.

  Overheard While Sulking

  Chapter Eight

  Relative quiet reigned in Lord Hades' condo when Charon stepped through the door from the library. His lordship was in the condo. Ti was absent but was most likely due back shortly. Nike's nails clicked on the hardwood as she paced. Poor girl needed those trimmed, and the pacing probably meant she had to go out. Charon felt terribly neglectful. But there was a sound out of place. Something not quite… a wheezing? Was there something wrong with the heating system?

  When the answer hit him, he was already hurrying out of the study, and he found exactly what he'd feared in the living room by the French doors. Nike rushed him, whimpering frantically, but Charon could only spare her a distracted pat as he ran to the figure huddled on the floor. The wheeze emanated from Lord Hades, half on his side, one hand clutching his chest as he gasped for air.

  "My lord?" Charon dropped to his knees, one hand on his lordship's shoulder. "What's happened?"

  Lord Hades had no breath to spare and only managed to shake his head. Carefully, mindful of possible injury, Charon turned him and propped Hades up against his chest, hoping to help ease his breathing. Repositioning helped, but so negligibly it made little difference. The door to the condo slammed open, and Ti dropped the bag he'd been carrying to fly across the room to them.

  "Damn it, no." He seized Hades' hand, rubbing it between both of his. "He said he wanted ginger ale. I just… I was gone ten minutes. Char, what's wrong with him?"

  "I've no idea." Charon swallowed the several sharp things he wanted to say as unhelpful, and they were both equally stricken and at a loss. He shifted Lord Hades into his arms. "The plan was to call Lady Hestia if he got worse. But this can't wait. I have to take him."

  Not so long ago, Ti would've been near hysterics, demanding not to be left behind. Now he was pale and visibly upset, but he nodded. "Go. Hurry. I'll stay with Nike."

  Charon gathered his lordship close and stepped between, the way to the Underworld as familiar as his own hands. He angled himself so that they would emerge in the throne room of the Obsidian Palace, a trip he had made a hundred thousand times over the centuries. Except this time the emerging didn't happen. Charon remained in the heavy grayness between the planes, where he had to presume his lordship remained in his arms since, it was impossible to sense anything there. He flashed back to the condo and tried again, only to find his way blocked again. Once more… but he couldn't continue risking Lord Hades in that manner. He was unable to break through, the way blocked. He returned to the condo, head aching with the effort of trying to break through.

  "What's wrong?" Ti whispered, his face milk pale.

  "I can't… something's not letting me pass. As if I were trying to 'port into the library."

  "Someone's what? Put up a wall?" Ti reached over to smooth the silver hair back from his lordship's forehead. "He's so cold. I'll call Hestia. In case…"

  Charon tried for something close to a smile. "Don't worry. There are other ways. I'll simply go to the cave entrance at Cape Matapan. If something's preventing me moving through
the planes, I'll simply walk him in from there."

  Ti nodded, chewing on his bottom lip, and Charon didn't waste another moment. The planes allowed him smooth passage to the caves, though he knew something wasn't right upon arrival. Normally, the passages brought voices to him during the daytime—tourists and guides in the outer sea cave, admiring the beautiful grotto and rock features. Despite brilliant sunshine filtering into the passage where Charon stood, there were no voices.

  However, there was whimpering, then howling. Altogether too-familiar howling. His limbs were starting to burn, but Charon hitched Lord Hades up in his arms and hurried toward the distressed canine sounds. What he found at the entrance to the Underworld was both exactly as he expected and incredibly disturbing.

  Cerberus sat in front of the irregularly shaped tunnel mouth, all three massive heads raised in heart-rending, rasping howls. The entrance itself wasn't much to look at, and it emanated a cold dread that discouraged mortal visitors. If they were brave enough, or stupid enough, to brave the passage, Cerberus was attuned to the entrance and would come to stop their descent.

  From inside the tunnel. He wasn't supposed to venture far outside the entrance.

  "Hey, hey, Cerbies. We're here. What's wrong?" Charon laid his burden gently on the cave floor and patted each dark head in turn. The howling stopped, but Cerberus still whimpered, nudging and licking at Charon, threatening to knock him over. "Go lie down with your daddy. Go on. Let me see what's happening here."

  Cerberus chuffed, whined, and licked all at once, then trotted over to lie down beside Lord Hades and place one huge possessive paw on his thigh. His lordship had managed to pet his monstrous hound even when grievously wounded. That he didn't move a finger was more distressing than the wheezing from his lungs. With all due caution, Charon approached the tunnel mouth, peering into the dark. He wasn't frightened, of course, but anything that had chased Cerberus out of the Underworld had to be formidable, and he went in with claws at the ready.

  It's… There's something… Charon's hands encountered the barrier first—not a barrier he could feel precisely. Nevertheless, he couldn't push through. He heaved his shoulder against whatever it was, and it brought him up short again. There was no give to it, no bounce, but no hard barrier either. He simply wasn't able to proceed any farther. This can't be.

  An attempt to flash beyond the barrier failed as well. The way was blocked, and with the physical entrance blocked, somehow the way into the Underworld was blocked entirely. An exceptionally powerful hand lay behind this. Charon felt around the edges of the entrance, sniffing, listening, feeling for signatures in the working… He smelled… It was almost like…

  Azeban?

  That couldn't be. The raccoon god wasn't this powerful, nor did his talents run toward something like this. But the scent was unmistakable and all over the rock.

  "Damn him to the lowest levels of Tartarus," Charon growled as he scooped his lordship up once more. "Cerbies, stay. I'll be right back for you. Stay."

  How could Az have done such a thing? Why? Charon's thoughts skittered and spun as he flashed back to the condo to a shocked and now-frantic Ti.

  "You're back. Why are you back? Fuck, oh fuck, what—"

  "Hush." Charon cut off the rising torrent of Ti's panicking. He kept talking as he carried Lord Hades to the master bedroom. "I can't get through. The way's blocked. Don't ask. I don't know. I just can't get him to his domain. Is Hestia coming?"

  Ti's voice squeaked and cracked before he got out, "Yeah, but—"

  "Good. Get in bed with him. Anything we can do. I have to grab Cerberus."

  "You… what? But—"

  Charon flashed out again in the middle of Ti's sentence, retrieved Cerberus who was unaccountably heavier than his lordship—or maybe Charon was tiring—and returned to the bedroom before Ti had finished taking off his T-shirt.

  "Stay by him, Cerbies," Charon told all three heads. He rolled his shoulders to ease the strain. "Lady Hestia? Library?"

  "Who…?" Ti could be forgiven his distraction this once, so Charon didn't growl at him for being dense. "Oh yeah. Sounded like you were playing some weird game of Clue there. Yes, she'll be coming to the door."

  Nike climbed onto the bed even though she was too big for that now and stretched out on one side while Ti unbuttoned his lordship's shirt and slid in on the other side, skin to skin. For whatever reason, it helped when Lord Hades felt poorly. Charon tore his gaze away from the desperate cuddling and flashed to the study, where someone was already hammering on the door in a police knock.

  "Lady—" Charon choked off the greeting since the figure in the library's doorway was a human-aspect dragon rather than Lady Hestia. "Fafnir?"

  "Took you long enough, Ferryman," Fafnir growled as he shoved past. Lady Hestia and Hermes had been hidden behind his larger bulk, and both hurried in after.

  "Bedroom?" her ladyship asked, hefting her carpetbag.

  "Yes." Charon added belatedly, "With Ti." Not that she would be at all shocked, of course, but she had already bustled off.

  "Char, you look terrible." Hermes seized him by the arms. "Mother's sake, what's happened?"

  "His lordship collapsed—"

  Fafnir leaned against the desk, eyes narrowed. "Some reason you didn't take him to his domain?"

  "I can't!" Charon's own bellow shocked him, and he found to his chagrin that his hands had curled into talons. With a shuddering breath, he reached for calm. "I tried. The way is blocked. Both through the between spaces and the cave mouth. I can't get in."

  Fafnir's normal frown darkened. "Physical barrier?"

  "Yes. But no." Charon rubbed at his forehead. And Azeban somehow was there or involved. To say that now though, is to accuse him, possibly endanger him if people jump to conclusions. Not yet. He needed more information. "It's physical in that I couldn't force my way past it, but it's obviously magical."

  "Do you want me—" Hermes began before he startled and turned to his right. "Oh, hello, there."

  "Mr. Stygian. Mr. Stygian!" Jason the ghost materialized between them, tugging on Charon's sleeve. "You need to see what's happening at the hospital."

  "Jason, I can't right now."

  Smoke wisped from Fafnir's nostrils. "Who're you talking to?"

  "The big guy can't see me?" Jason waved a hand at Fafnir, then yanked it back. "Holy shit. What is he?"

  "He's a dragon." Charon pointed at what probably appeared to be empty space to Fafnir. "This is Jason. He's recently deceased."

  Fafnir's red-gold eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "Ferryman. Every immortal knows that if a ghost comes to find you, you listen."

  "Whoa. Cool." Jason's wonder didn't last long, as he started tugging, not physical tugs, but ones Charon could feel in his bones. "Please. I think… I think you're not just a funeral director, and I think you need to see."

  "Go, Char. Nothing you can do for him right now." Hermes jerked his head toward the door even though he knew Charon would take an alternate route. "Things have obviously gone all to Tartarus in some way, and the more intel we have the better. We can talk all of this through when you get back and whatever cases he needs help with right now. I have people we can put on them."

  "Oui, mon capitaine." Charon sketched an ironic salute rather than ask, Who put you in charge, my young lord? Really, it wasn't the time. "Which hospital?"

  "Jefferson." Jason shook his head. "It's all of them. I checked. But it's as good as any to start."

  Charon took Jason's hand, the only one in the room who could, and with a nod to Hermes and Fafnir, yanked them into the spaces between. The hospitals of Philadelphia were familiar enough. His business had conducted morgue retrievals from all of them. He flashed them to the hallway outside the morgue doors.

  "This way," Jason whispered, as if he feared to wake the dead.

  Maybe he did.

  He couldn't hide from the library pandas. Azeban knew that, but they seemed to have realized he needed some alone time. On the floor below th
e panda quarters, fewer gods had their private studies, and he'd found after some experimentation that except for the Alexandria Collection, the third floor was quieter than the others.

  Only a few turnings away from the glass cases and careful shelving of the Alexandrian stuff was a nook that was quietest of all. Hidden away from other hallways by several turnings was a long room lined with banks of ridiculously shallow drawers and furnished with long tables. A bit of curious exploration had revealed the space to be a collection of maps and star charts, many of them ancient. A heavy scent of cinnabar, myrrh, and peat hung over the room, enough to mask his scent from almost every creature who had ever lived.

  Almost. It'll do for now.

  One three-sided nook tucked into the farthest corner from the entrance contained regular bookshelves on which sat map books and what he had to assume was stuff for astrological forecasting. Probably not the half-finished box of chocolates though. That was someone's secret, forgotten stash.

  Azeban returned to raccoon form, since he was naked already, no discarded clothes to give him away, and snagged a chocolate before he squished behind some of the books and curled up comfortably. He'd needed to get away from everyone more than he needed to breathe. Playing with the pandas, he'd managed to forget for a few minutes about what he'd done. Until Dio tackled him—Dio, whose favorite uncle was suffering because of what Azeban had done.

  What if some of the death lords faded out of existence? What would happen to all the dying humans? What if closing all the human doors to death ended the universe? No. That was kinda dramatic. Right? There had to be some way out of this. Always a way out, though sometimes those ways hurt like hell.

  Not that he really cared, of course. He only cared about getting Kau back—his one friend who'd never judged him or called him dirty or a conniving sneak. Of course, sometimes he was both, but Kau understood. The world could rot. The humans could rot. Except…