Page 38 of Definitely Dead

The mage stirred with a quiet groan, stretching his neck and rubbing his arms as if settling back into his own body. “Ah, that’s better.”

“Everything okay?” Tyr asked, enjoying the way Aster’s eyes flared with apprehension.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I think I passed out there for a second.”

“No need to be sorry,” Tyr told him. “Everything will be over soon.”

Aster nodded, his eyes darting from side to side. “Right. You know, maybe this isn’t such a good idea. We don’t even know where he went.”

“Don’t worry.” He took a step toward the witch, forcing him back, herding him toward the front of the boat. “I have a good feeling we’re going to find him.”

“Love.” He choked the word out, his lips twisting as if he had tasted something sour. “I think we should go back. This is dangerous.”

“Oh, it’s very dangerous.”

Aster seemed taken aback for a moment, but he recovered quickly, giving him a saccharine smile. “Exactly. It’s not worth it. We can find another way.” He reached toward Tyr with a trembling hand. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay,” he answered easily. “I just need to know something first.”

The mage blinked back at him, his gaze filled with false innocence. “What is that?”

In one swift, lethal move, Tyr caught him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him over the edge of the boat, dangling him above the river.

“Whoa!” Charon called. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Back off,” he barked when the ferryman tried to approach, his gaze never leaving Aster. “Tell me where my mate is?”

Holding Tyr’s arm in a frantic grip, he glanced down at the water, then back, his eyes bulging with panic. “Tyr! What are you doing? It’s me. It’s Sunne!”

“Where is my mate?” he asked again. “What did you do to him?”

“Tyr, this is crazy! I swear, it’s me! Ask me. Ask me anything.”

A deep, resonating growl shook his chest. “If I were you, I’d choose my next words carefully.”

Their eyes locked, understanding passing between them. Tyr knew the truth, and Aster had realized it. One move away from checkmate, and everything came down to the witch’s next play.

“Oh, okay.” Abandoning the frightened fawn act, he adopted a cocky grin as he studied Tyr through narrowed eyes. “What gave me away?”

Tired of the game, Tyr shook him roughly. “Where is Sunne? I won’t ask you again.”

“Right where he’s supposed to be,” he answered cryptically. “One soul judged and remitted to the afterlife. That’s how the system works, right?”

Tyr stilled, every muscle in his body clenched with rage.

He had been working off the assumption that the body swap had been a distraction. Something to keep them chasing their tails while Aster snuck across the river. Maybe in search of an artifact or talisman, or maybe even a loophole to this whole death thing.

If he had passed through the Gates of Judgement, though, it was so much worse than anything Tyr could have imagined.

The scales that determined a person’s fate weighed the soul. Not the vessel. Once judged, the results—good or bad—were immediate and immutable. The dead received no appeals, no do-overs, and no chance to plead their case.

Aster had just pulled off a soul heist that had the potential to shake the very foundations of the Underworld. He had hijacked Sunne’s body to face his own judgment, then reversed the spell, leaving Sunne to pay for his sins for the rest of eternity.

Now, he could only hope Aster had even a shred of decency in him, just enough goodness to land him a lesser sentence. While still places of eternal punishment, at least Sunne had a chance in the Whisper Woods or the Catacombs.

No one survived the Tombs.

“Start talking, or so help me—”

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