Page 8 of Touch of Death
“We must shake on the deal first,” I say, stepping closer. “I would hate to think you were trying to find a way to back out of your end of the bargain.”
I hold out my empty hand to him. Charon eyes it warily for a long moment before moving to the bow of the boat, his boney hand darting out to take mine.
The handshake is over in a matter of seconds, and yet, he still shivers at the frost that I allow to bite its way into him. I would almost be amused at his fear, if I was not already so focused on the future torment that I have planned for him.
Dropping the gold coins into his hand, Charon shrinks back.
“Let us be gone from here before I come to regret this decision more than I already do,” the ferryman mutters, sizing me up as he tucks the coins into the folds of his cloak.
I hold my tongue as I climb into the boat, settling onto the bench across from where Hazel still cowers.
“Here, little one,” I say softly, leaning forward to offer my hand to her, “let me help you back onto your seat.”
Her eyes widen on me, but all she does is pull her knees closer to her chest. Charon pushes us away from the shore, and Hazel flinches as the boat rocks beneath us, ducking to bury her face in her arms.
It takes every bit of self-restraint within me not to reach for her, not to pull her to my chest and never let go. It is only out of fear that she now hates me that I refrain from acting on this.
Sitting back, I try not to show how much this thought pains me as I stare out over the dark waters of the Styx. I will not force her to be with me, if that is not her wish.
Darkness closes in around us until the only light that remains is that of the single lantern hung from the bow, and we can longer see the shore, let alone the way ahead. Gradually, I feel eyes on me and glance back to find Hazel watching me. Her knitted brow worries me, until her eyes lift to meet mine … and I finally understand what I am tasting in the air.
It is not hatred that stares back at me, but fear.
Fear, because she hasforgottenme.
There is no warmth or recognition in her gaze, and it nearly shatters me to realize this. To know that, now, I alone hold the memories of our time together.
That I alone rememberus.
Her soul still sings to me as it always has, but I was a fool to think that I made enough of an impression upon it to withstand the ravaging of death upon it.
But that is exactly why I am here. I will find a way to save her, a way to help her remember and live once more.
Whether or not she chooses to do so with me.
Charon’s grumbling grows louder, interrupting my thoughts, and I clear my throat in warning … which he chooses to ignore. His grumbling only grows louder as he complains about being forced to do more than double the work just to charter me back and forth acrosshisriver.
Annoyance burns in me as the minutes slip past, until I am unable to put up with his moaning a second longer.
“Enough, Charon,” I growl, “I will have your silence. See to it, and I will give you two more coins for your trouble once we reach the other side.”
As expected, this does the trick. He immediately brightens, straightening as he continues to guide us along the river, and I know he believes he has played me for a fool. Despite the heavy hood, I can still make out the flash of his satisfied grin as he begins to whistle a low, somber tune.
Training my eyes forward, I harden my jaw, determined not to give Charon the satisfaction of engaging with him any further. The sooner we get across this river and away from him, the better.
This is not the first time I have crossed the Styx, but today it seems to stretch on forever in the darkness. The ancient wood groans beneath us as the churning water grows more violent as the souls within fling themselves against the boat with ever-increasing fervor.
At long last, the darkness gives way to the muted colors of the opposite shoreline and a lantern-lit dock. I stifle a sigh of relief, unwilling to give Charon the pleasure of hearing it.
Soon, the first leg of our journey will be complete. I am eager to be rid of the ferryman and to finally have a moment alone with Hazel. I need to assure her that she is safe and that I fully intend to right the wrongs that I have acted upon her.
If she will but allow me.
“Brace yourselves,” Charon says far too late as the boat bumps roughly into place beside the dock. He anchors the ferry using his pole as a wedge before stepping up onto the pier and turning to offer his gnarled hand out to Hazel.
“What are you playing at Charon?” I ask.
“The river’s debt,” he answers. “For the ferry ride to count, you must both step from the boat.”
