Page 87 of Love and Death
I step back as Cerberus pulls Death out of the way and, at long last, unlocks the gate.
It groans, yawning wide as it swings open its hungry mouth, and the souls pour in. I have to quickly move several paces away, not to be swept away with them their rush to get in is so great.
“I think it might be a while,” Cerberus shouts from the other side.
“I can wait,” I call back, feeling the relief of their souls as they make their way toward what I hope will be the joy and peace of their new home … and part of me wonders if I was wrong to hold my father back from that.
My thoughts are interrupted as I hear another horn blast in the distance.
“Hazel, we need to go, now!”
Cerberus gathers Death in his arms and forces his way through the gate, souls breaking against him like water against stone to flow off in either direction.
But it’s far too great a current for me.
“I can’t! There are too many!”
Somewhere behind me, I hear a thunderous rumble, and I glance back to watch as birds scatter to rise up inblack clouds against the dark sky. Something is coming for us, and fast.
Before I can turn back around to say something, I’m suddenly caught up in the hellhound’s strong arms with a cry of surprise.
“Sorry, no time to ask,” he says, holding me tight to his chest as he struggles against the tide of souls.
Finally breaking free on the other side of the gate, he puts me down next to Death and Eros, his chest heaving as he winces in pain before quickly trying to hide it behind a smile.
“Cerberus—”
“Almost there, no time to lose. Charon will head back in a minute.”
He moves past me to reclaim his burden, and then he urges me back toward the Styx and its black waters.
Charon stands perfectly still on the dock next to his skiff, his face hidden in the hollow of his hood, his tattered cloak wafting about him. The sky has just barely started to lighten, a fog rolling in across the dark waters behind him.
“Charon,” Cerberus greets, his voice rumbling through my chest even as I hurry to keep up behind him.
“What,” the stoic figure starts, gnarled hands slipping from their sleeves for a moment as he is caught off-balance.
“Did I wake you?”
“What? Of course not,” he rasps. “I was merely … waiting.”
It’s only now that his gaze seems to turn on me, and a knot begins to form in my stomach under it.
“I—” the hellhound starts.
“No,” Charon hisses. “No, gods dammit. No! I am growing tired of seeing the same faces day in and day out. What do you think this is? A ferry for the dead and dying?”
“It is a ferry for the dead,” Cerberus says.
“You know what I mean. Dead and dying stay, they do not cross the other way.”
“Oh hell, have you suddenly taken a fancy rhymes and riddles?”
Despite being unable to see Charon’s face, I can tell he’s growing more flustered by the second, and I wonder if it’s wise to rile him up before seeking passage across the Styx.
“Cerberus,” I say, laying a gentle hand on his arm as I step forward, “might I try?”
“Be my guest.”
