Brandywine Investigations

by Angel Martinez

  He'd gotten used to humans over the centuries, even liked some of them. There were the cheesesteaks, after all. And Dio had been his friend and once-or-twice lover. And Lord Hades had taken him in, offered him protection without knowing that Azeban had constructed his demise. And Char, oh sweet mother of waters, Char, who had picked him out of the dirt and cared for him, fed him and read stories to him. Char, who was beautiful and fierce, and Azeban just wanted to climb into his lap and curl up there forever.

  He had no right to any of it now, and if Charon hadn't figured it out yet, he soon would. There would be no more stories and no more snuggling close and no chance to kiss the ferryman again. Yep. He'd really fucked up everything this time.

  Heartsick, exhausted, he fell asleep in his impromptu cave behind the map books. Enough time later that his neck was stiff, Azeban woke to voices. Heart racing, he stayed hunted-raccoon still and wished he could stop his heart from beating when he recognized one of the voices.

  "I had not considered partials," Itzpapalotl murmured. "It may not be enough."

  "Nothing lost by trying it though." The second voice was smooth, soothing, though Azeban had heard that voice shrieking too. Eris. Holy waters. "It's a broader area and six or seven sweeps in a year instead of two, perhaps three."

  A third voice, barely audible and hissing, said, "Itzi, don't discard any options. And why just men? Why not take them all?"

  A series of cascading chimes followed that statement, and the itch of Azeban's curiosity got the better of him. He peered out between the books to find three goddesses seated around the end of the longer map table, Itzpapalotl half out of her chair with her obsidian-knife wings mantled. Eris sat next to her, observing the stirring conflict with a little smile, and across the table sat a lithe, graceful goddess, her visible skin covered in scales, her head veiled.

  Unhcegila. Azeban shivered and tried to make himself as small as possible. The serpent goddess loved only destruction, and a glimpse of her face killed instantly. So they said. Azeban had never seen proof, but she was freaking scary either way.

  "Human women are under my protection." Itzpapalotl's voice slashed the air between them.

  Eris purred a speculative hum. "What about the ones who weren't bor—?"

  "All humans who are not men are under my protection." Razor claws ground into the wood of the table, violence thickening the air. "The males I will rend from the cosmos. They have raped, subjugated, denigrated, and abused for too long. The power will shift. The world will change."

  A hiss resolved into laughter as Unhcegila waved off the threat display. "Your pets, Itzi. Your designs. Do as you please, of course. I'm only here for astronomical advice."

  Humans who aren't men? Take them? What the fuck was this about? Of course it had to do with closing the doors to the death realms. He knew that much. His assumptions had run toward human spirits wandering the earth helplessly, and the gods who depended on them fading, ending up in some kind of hostage demand like she'd done with Kau. But what would she possibly want? And this sounded like something else. Something even worse.

  "So how many do you devour, normally?" Eris asked, her tone just a fly wing shy of mocking. Playing a dangerous game, discord goddess. Itz isn't patient or stupid.

  Luckily for Eris, Itzpapalotl's concentration had returned to the charts of eclipse forecasts in front of her. "One. Perhaps two. It's always more difficult to rend a soul from a living host. Satisfying, but it takes more time, and I've only done so during totality before."

  Unhcegila hiss-snickered. "Traditionalist. Still, two souls in the two minutes of totality isn't bad."

  "This way, I have them marked beforehand, and the connection between body and soul will be tenuous, since they are trapped at the moment of separation." Itzpapalotl drew her claws along the arc of an eclipse. "With the maps, I can fly with the totality. Extend it to hours instead of minutes. A feast spread before me as it was long ago but of my choosing."

  "There! Now you're thinking." Eris clapped her hands in unholy glee.

  "Your condescension is noted," Itzpapalotl said in that even, soothing voice that could've meant anything from a dry joke to rising fury. Eris paled.

  Unhcegila stood, careful to catch her veil as it began to slip. "Well, you have it, then. Send me a note when you're starting. I would dearly love to watch."

  She glided from the alcove, her shimmering gown brushing the floor and giving the impression that she had no feet. Maybe she didn't. Horned desert serpent with iron fangs, maybe her human aspect wasn't very human. Azeban didn't really want to know. She was sandstorm and ruin, death and chaos, and he didn't think he imagined Eris letting out a sigh of relief when she'd gone.

  "How long do you think you have?" Eris murmured when they were alone. "The others won't sit still forever."

  "Enough time to change the balance, to rip enough male souls from the universe." Itzpapalotl’s soft laugh chimed and echoed strangely in the alcove. "They won't trace it to me. And the one they will trace it to? I've rendered him mute. I have time."

  "It'll be great fun, Itzi. I can't wait." Eris made to get up, but Itzpapalotl's iron claws closed hard around her wrist. She gasped and held scared-rabbit still.

  Itzpapalotl's smile was all frozen charm. "And if you tell, troublesome cousin, I will flay you and eat your heart."

  "Don't be stupid." Eris pulled free after a struggle. "The other death lords can all fade in agony as far as I'm concerned. There are some I'm really hoping do."

  "So much bitterness is a heady seasoning." Far too many sharp teeth glistened in Itzpapalotl's smile. "Your heart would be delicious."

  Wide-eyed, Eris stumbled back three steps, turned, and fled.

  Azeban waited, trembling, until Itzpapalotl had left the alcove as well before he crept out of his hiding spot. He needed to do something, didn't he? What could he do that wouldn't result in Kau's death? Itzpapalotl was talking about the permanent destruction of human souls, but what did he care about that? A few less male human souls—or maybe a lot less—in the world wasn't a bad thing. Except… maybe human souls weren't human in every life.

  Maybe sometimes they were crows. Raccoons. Red pandas. It would leave… holes in the universe, wouldn't it?

  I have to find Char. There has to be something.

  He raced through the maze of shelves, through the glass and wood cases of the Alexandria Collection, down the stairs to the second floor. The scents led him now as surely as any map, and he headed unerringly toward Lord Hades' study, stealth tossed out the window without a parachute.

  Almost there. I'll help Char guess. Like charades, kind of. I'll—

  Something thumped behind him. He turned and dodged the dark shadow that lunged from a crossing corridor. A clawed hand closed around his throat, a deep voice snarling in his ear, "There you are you camel-spit crotch flea."

  Trickster Cabal

  Chapter Nine

  So, can you be invisible?" Jason whispered as they entered the hospital.

  Charon didn't have the heart to tell him that he could have bellowed, and no one would have heard. He was just so absurdly sincere. "I can pull the shadows close. Most humans will look away."

  "Should work. We're going up to ICU. They usually only let family in. It's a full house up there."

  Jason led him to the locked doors of intensive care, where he simply walked through the glass and steel, and Charon 'ported to the other side. Glass-fronted rooms were grouped around nurses' stations here, each patient sharing a room only with their banks of monitors and medical equipment. Jason hadn't been exaggerating. Every room held an occupant.

  "Here. We'll start with this one." Jason motioned him inside one of the rooms behind the nearest nursing station. "This is Keri. She was in a car accident, I think, from what her mom's said."

  Charon navigated his way around IV poles and respiratory equipment. Keri was twelve at most, a dark-haired girl with an olive complexion. As soon as he stood beside her, the wrongness hit him so hard
that he wanted to 'port away. She lived, but she no longer seemed properly attached to herself. He ran a hand above her and frowned.

  "Her lungs are crushed. One of her heart chambers as well. She should have moved on long ago." Charon spoke to her softly, "Keri. Can you hear me? You shouldn't be here."

  Keri's spirit slowly materialized, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're not an angel, are you?"

  "No, I'm not. But I've met quite a few. Are you lost?"

  She gave him a hard side eye. "What a dumb question. I'm at the hospital. It's Jefferson, in case you think I don't know which one."

  "Not quite that sort of lost." Charon sat at the foot of the bed on the opposite side. "Are they saying you should recover?"

  "The doctors keep saying I should be dead." She shrugged. "I look dead. Mom's really upset, but she can't hear me or see me like you do."

  "Have you tried to move on? To leave your body?"

  "Yeah. I have." She chewed on her insubstantial bottom lip. "It feels like something tugging at me. Like I should be going, right? But I can't."

  "Can you take my hand?" Charon extended a hand to her and waited while Keri considered it. He knew it wasn't the most comforting hand, so he was patient.

  Finally, she grasped it, her chill ghostly fingers an insubstantial presence against his palm. He stood and stepped away from the bed. Keri closed her eyes, unfolding her legs as if she meant to rise, then her hand slipped from his.

  "I can't. It doesn't work. I can't get any farther than this."

  Charon let his hand drop. "I'm sorry. I'll do my best to resolve this."

  "So something is wrong." Keri pulled her legs back up, frowning. "Did I do something? Not do something?"

  "I'm getting the uncomfortable feeling that this is a larger problem," Charon told her softly. "Sit tight."

  Keri put her chin in her hands with a little snort. "Where'm I gonna go?"

  "Come on." Jason pulled on Charon's sleeve. "There's more."

  They went from room to room in the ICU, most holding a patient who clearly should have died but somehow clung to life, with their confused and often distraught spirits unable to leave their broken bodies behind. Some rocked and wept. Some simply stared at Charon in dazed incomprehension. The ones who could speak to him all said the same thing. They could not stray from their physical selves.

  "Are there any bodies in the morgue here?" Charon whispered to Jason as they left the ICU.

  "Almost none."

  Charon squinted at his ghost guide. "Almost? So there have been some deaths?"

  "Yeah." Jason swallowed hard. "Some. Come with me."

  They took the stairs to the eighth floor since traveling by elevator might have called attention to them. Charon wasn't familiar with the hospital beyond the morgue, so it was a few disorienting moments before he understood where Jason was taking him.

  "Neonatal ICU?"

  Jason let out a long sigh. "Yeah."

  They passed the doors here just as they had for the adult ICU. The heart-wrenching sobs hit Charon before he finished teleporting through the doors. A woman sat in one of the visitor's chairs with a tiny bundle in her arms, rocking and sobbing. Two nurses tried to comfort her, though they appeared nearly as upset as the woman. The baby… Charon could sense from here that the mother held only a physical husk. The baby's spirit had long passed on.

  The infant had died. Just like in the newspaper obituaries.

  Charon took his ghost companion by the arm and marched him to the far corner of the room. "Jason?"

  "Only the babies die," Jason told him in a distressed whisper. "Never more than a year old."

  Charon had a horrible thought. "All of the infants die?"

  "No, no. Just the ones where something's wrong. I mean, it's sad and all, but I don't think more babies are dying than… Well, I wouldn't know. But it doesn't seem like too many of them."

  "And it's like this at all of the hospitals?"

  Jason's nod was frantic, as if it could convey extra sincerity. "So what's happening, Mr. Stygian? What's this all about?"

  "I don't know. I wish I did. There are things I need to check. Things I need to do." Charon rubbed at his temples, fingers flattened so he didn't stab himself with his claws. "The world is all wrong. Everything is wrong."

  "Mr. Stygian?"

  Charon took Jason by his not-entirely opaque shoulders. "Stay here. Keep watch for me. I'll be back to check on things when I've untangled all of this."

  He barely waited for Jason's nod before he flashed back to the condo. Soft voices came from his lordship's room. Fafnir paced in front of the doors to the balcony.

  "Any change?"

  Fafnir shook his head. "No. Herm's with him. Lady Hestia. Athena. I think Ti's having a stroke. You find out anything?"

  "Yes." Charon stared out the windows, clicking his claws together as he thought hard and fast. Of course Azeban had been hiding something. That hadn't been a secret, but Charon had specifically asked if there was a danger to his lordship. Azeban had lied. Had kept crucial information from him that imperiled Charon's oldest friend. His chosen family. Azeban had known what was happening all along during the stories, the snuggles, the kisses—had known while Lord Hades sickened—and had said nothing. A spiked ball of heated lead had been dropped into his stomach. He struggled for clear thoughts beyond the pain. "Death is broken, and I need to find a treacherous little raccoon god."

  Fafnir muttered under his breath something about gods and demigods not explaining shit, but Charon didn't have time to trade words with the ancient dragon. He strode for the study and the library door.

  "Undo it," Set snarled in Azeban's face, with not his sometimes-human face but his unclassifiable Lord-of-Storms, mouth-full-of-sharp-teeth face. "Undo it or I rip your intestines out through your ears."

  Azeban clawed at the fingers around his throat but couldn't dislodge them. The world grew dark around the edges. He wheezed out, "I don't—"

  "The fuck you don't!" Set roared. "Your stink is all over the doors to my brother's palace. My brother, who is now trapped in his own throne room!"

  "Don't rip him apart yet, camel nose." The deep voice came from farther down the shelves, a voice Azeban both dreaded and longed to hear. "I have questions for the little trash panda too."

  The hand around his throat loosened, and Azeban thumped to the floor, struggling to pull in a full breath, the trash panda dig closing his throat more effectively than Set's fingers. He scuttled to put his back to one of the bookshelves, not that it would do any good. Charon lounged against the corner of the shelf without expression. Blank. Bland. Terrifying. He's figured enough out. Oh no. No, no, no.

  "Char—"

  "You stay quiet for now." Charon pointed a black claw at him, though his voice remained soft and calm. "My Lord of Storms, I overheard that your brother is trapped in his realm. My own lord is trapped outside of his realm and suffering for it. I've just come from a human hospital and have spoken to spirits there whose bodies are unable to die."

  "Unable?" Set stood up from his threatening crouch and straightened his suit jacket. "How many of these spirits?"

  "Ah, you're catching on. Probably more than we can count. I found a certain raccoon's scent all over the cave entrance in Cape Matapan. It appears to me that we share an issue, and that other death lords must be affected."

  Chaos lord stared at ferryman before he also pointed at Azeban. "And you don't want me to tear him to bits?"

  "You're angry." Charon waved his claws at Set in a dismissive gesture. "Not thinking clearly. We need the little miscreant to tell us how to undo it. I assume you tried to break the barrier."

  Miniature tornadoes spun around Set's feet as he growled. "I should have been able to. Nothing keeps me out."

  "Hmm, yes." Charon looked as though there were things he fought hard not to say. "I thought the same, but I couldn't even 'port through the barrier."

  This seemed to cut through Set's rage. "I… see."

  "Now." Cha
ron stalked toward Azeban until he loomed, a dark shadow against the library's lights. "I don't see any benefit to Azeban, personally, in shutting off the accesses to human death. And while I know he was involved, the power behind this is far beyond his sleight of hand and thievery. So, Az. Is there something you'd like to tell us?"

  Azeban phased from human aspect to raccoon three times before settling on naked human and pulling his knees up under his chin. The chill, calm tone didn't fool Azeban one bit, and Charon's anger knifed through him like nothing had in centuries. He never cared what anyone thought of him. They could call him all the names they wanted. Except now—now he cared so much he wanted to bawl.

  "I can't," he whispered, wishing there were some way to scream his thoughts into Charon's mind.

  "You said that before." Charon crouched in front of him, those black eyes boring through him. "But I know—we know—what you've done now. Why the need to hide it still?"

  "I can't," Azeban repeated more vehemently. Though there had to be something. He should be able to say something to put them on the right track without saying anything.

  Set moved forward, but Charon put up a hand to discourage him. "It's about Kau. You don't have to say anything. It has to be, since he hasn't made an appearance since after the day I found you in the bushes."

  Azeban swallowed hard, not even daring to nod. Itzpapalotl. The nets. Eclipses.

  "Kaukont?" Set hummed in a speculative way. "Someone has the crow and is using him to ensure this annoying git's silence?"

  "Has to be." Charon stood, and now Azeban was hopelessly trapped, with Set leaning against the bookshelf on one side and Charon on the other. "He's not just being stubborn. He's scared. While the orchestrator of this catastrophe is obviously powerful, Az wouldn't be scared into silence unless immediate consequences were attached. Not as if you can simply threaten the little miscreant himself. He'd just run and hide."

  Azeban winced, wanting to protest, wanting to say no, this was different. Anything so Charon wouldn't look at him with those cold, angry eyes, but… Yeah. You can't deny it, can you? You have. You did. Just didn't work this time.