Page 70 of Dead End

“We’re going to continue the tradition of game night in your honor,” Otto said.

Kane made a noise at the back of his throat. “Josephine.”

The vampire looked momentarily startled. “Oh, right. We got you a gift.” She thrust a box in my hand in one swift, awkward motion. “It’s Scrabble. Thought you might want to play with your new friends in the underworld.”

“Thank you, Josie.”

Alessandro raised his hand. “I’m the one they sent to the store to buy it.”

I smiled at the incubus. “Thank you.”

I set the box and the breakfast bag on the ground and hugged each and every one of them, marveling at my ability to do so without triggering any nightmares. So much had changed, I reminded myself, but not all of it was bad.

Kane walked me to the spot between the two large oak trees that marked the entrance to the crossroads. “You will always be my inamorata,” he whispered, and kissed me one last time.

Emotions pummeled me as I crossed the threshold. I fought the desire to turn back and run straight into Kane’s arms. I wanted him to hold me until all this chaos and drama faded away. I’d taken five giant steps forward and now I was being forced to take three steps back. All my progress had been for nothing. I’d be back to hiding. Back to solitude. It was a life that didn’t suit me anymore.

Be careful what you wish for, I thought. My entire adult life, I’d longed for a home to call my own and now I was getting one. An entire domain that belonged to me.

Hip hip hooray.

I forced myself forward, picturing the entrance to the underworld. The toe of my boot located a cleft in the ground. Anyone else would’ve walked right over it without noticing. Another crack in the earth.

But I knew better.

Maybe I heard the hum of my homeland or felt the reach of my realm. Regardless of the reason, I knew this cleft was the doorway I sought.

Fairhaven was my past now and I needed to leave it there. With one final look at the path behind me, I slipped through the gap to meet my future.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The mist clungto the air like dense spiderwebs. I resisted the urge to swat it away, knowing the action was futile. The mist was part of the underworld’s ambience, much like the road I’d taken to Helheim. For different cultures, we sure had a lot in common.

A heavy silence enveloped the area, broken only by the distant echo of mournful whispers and the faint rustle of unseen entities. I tried to put myself in the shoes of the souls that traveled here, some willingly, others not so much. It had to be an arduous journey for them, not because of any dangers involved, but because of the emotional impact. I pictured Ray and Nana Pratt walking on either side of me. Instant mood booster.

A chilling breeze swept past me, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and decay. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, a palpable reminder that this was far more than a passage; it served as a threshold between life and the unknown, shuttling the arrivals into the depths of darkness. Finally, the mist thinned until I could finally see what was ahead of me.

A river.

The underworld included five rivers: Styx, the river of hatred; Lethe, the river of forgetfulness; Phlegethon, the river of fire; Cocytus, the river of wailing; and Acheron, the one in front of me.

The river of woe.

This was the first river the souls encountered, the one they crossed in a ferry to reach their final destination, which was now my final destination, too.

A silhouette moved. I crept closer to investigate, clinging to the shadows. A man shuffled toward a long, narrow boat. His wild white hair looked like it hadn’t been groomed since Pythagoras postulated his theorems. He wore a homespun tunic and nothing else. His name sprang from my mouth fully formed.

“Charon.”

The ferryman observed me with a stare that was as cold and unyielding as his slate-gray eyes. “You are flesh and bone.” His voice was as coarse as sandstone.

I patted my pockets excitedly. “I have a coin.” The crows knew me better than I knew myself.

“Even with a coin, you are not welcome to board this boat.”

I separated from the shadows. “Charon, it’s me. Melinoe.” I remembered him now, clear as crystal, as though I’d seen him only yesterday. The ferryman liked to bring me sweets and always carried extras for Cerberus. He was kinder and gentler than his demeanor suggested.

Charon spat on the ground. “Nonsense. You look nothing like Melinoe.”

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