P. Hoover - Solstice

I’m not sure what to say. It’s like I’m a part of an elaborate hoax, but there’s no way Shayne and Charon could make up this world. I want to turn and run away, but I can’t imagine where I would go; I sank through the ground to get here. But the image of Chloe’s pale body haunts me.

“I should get back. Chloe needs me.”

Shayne puts a hand under my chin and looks me directly in the eyes. It’s like he wants to draw my discomfort away and into himself. Like he would relieve my burden at the cost of his own. He rubs my chin with his thumb, and chills spill down my neck. “I stopped time.”

“You can do that?” My anxiety begins to dissipate at the edges.

Shayne releases my chin. “My father’s the god of time. It’s an inherited thing.”

“So you stopped it now?” I ask. I ignore the father-being-the-god-of-time thing, because it’s just too much to process right now.

“Yeah, I stopped it now. I need to show you what Chloe could have.”

I look out at the frothing river. “You mean if she dies.”

Shayne nods. “You can see her place here in the Underworld, and then you can decide.”

“Decide if she lives or dies?” I shake my head. “I don’t need to see the Underworld. I want Chloe alive.”

“It’s not all monsters, Piper. Just give it a chance. That’s all I ask.”

I’ve already made my decision. If I really do have a choice here—if this isn’t some bizarre dream—I won’t let Chloe die. And I did see time stop. Chloe is fine, and Chloe will live. But…

The Underworld beckons me and draws me toward it. I want to see it. It wraps its tendrils around my body and calls to me with a voice I can’t ignore. So I smile at Shayne. “Okay. I’ll give it a chance.”

And his smile brightens the darkness around me.

We walk to the boat, and I get in. It’s large enough to carry at least ten people, and I move to a seat at the front—next to Shayne. Charon follows us in and heads to the back, picking up a long pole which leans against the smooth black wood. I watch Charon, and he catches my eye and smiles. The lines crinkle around his face again, and it infects me, forcing me to smile back. Letting me accept the mythical world around me and live in it for the moment. Helping ease my mind of worries about Chloe.

Charon unties the boat, and it begins to drift. Though the light brightens as we move, I can’t see the opposite shore. The water bubbles and laps against the sides, and something jumps out of the water, catching a bubble in its mouth and swallowing it.

Hell. I’m in Hell. And Shayne is the Lord of the Underworld.

“Are you the devil?”

Shayne puts his hand on the inside of my bare leg, below the line of my shorts. Goose bumps break out on my legs, and he grins. “Do you want me to be?”

Charon chuckles from the back of the boat, and Shayne laughs, too.

It seems like a reasonable question to me, and I know what answer I want. “No.”

Shayne rubs my thigh, smoothing the goose bumps. But it’s futile. His rubbing only causes more goose bumps. I separate my legs the tiniest amount, giving his hand more room.

“Good. I am not the devil.”

“You get asked that a lot?”

“Almost every soul who comes here. It’s that whole Hell and devil association thing.”

I put my hand on his, and he stops rubbing my leg. “So is there a devil?”

Shayne sighs. “Piper, let me tell you something. The devil is everywhere. Above ground. Down here. He’s evil. And he’s always looking for a way in.”

Just when my goose bumps were about to disappear. “A way in where?”

Shayne lifts his hand, waving it across the river. “A way in anywhere. Hell. Earth. Souls. Any tiny crack or crevice. Evil is trying to seep inside and take over.”

I’ve been fortunate so far that evil has stayed away from my life, but I think about how the crime rate exploded during the last heat bubble. I turn back to the water to where he’s pointing—to the voices I hear there.

Send me back to my baby.

At last.

Please don’t let me fall.

I’m so young.

I can almost picture faces behind the words. The water bubbles with the sound of each one, and soon they blend together. I lean over and try to get a closer look, to see the things swimming below the surface.

I didn’t do it.

My daughter. Don’t let my daughter die.

Each voice is different but the same. It takes me a few minutes to realize why, but then it hits me. Sorrow. Anguish for a life which will never come back.

Help us.

I want to reach in. To release the grief in the voices. I lean over and put my hands on the side of the boat. Water splashes up and sprinkles my face. I stand and try to reach further, but my hand slips, and I fall.

A hand grabs me on the arm and catches me, guiding me back to my seat.

“Careful, my love.”

I face Shayne. Or Hades. But he looks straight ahead, like he hasn’t said a thing.

My love. The words had been as soft as a whisper, and I wonder if I made them up. I hope not.

“What are they?” I ask.

“Voices of the dead. The last thoughts and wishes of those leaving the land of the living. They stay here in the River Acheron.”

They continue to call out to me, as the monsters devour them with their long snouts, some with a single gulp, some slipping through the teeth of one only to be grabbed by another. They jump out of the water every so often exposing spikes on their backs and fins that look sharp as razors. “How can you stand to listen?” I ask.

Shayne shrugs. “Better for the dead to leave their sorrows here than live with them for all eternity. It helps keep evil away.”

“You mean they aren’t sad after this?”

Shayne smiles, and reaches up, brushing his fingers against my tattoo. It’s hard to see in the dim light around us, but I feel his fingers stopping on the scar of it. “The sorrows remain here, and the souls are free to go to their place of eternal rest. Why be burdened with dying thoughts when no one can ever go back?”

“Ever?”

“No. Never.”

And Chloe had almost died.

Shayne puts his arm around me, and I lean against him because his presence makes me never want to be anywhere else. I push the sorrows of the dead from my mind.

But then I hear Charon clear his throat.

Shayne turns back and looks. “Do you have something to say, Charon?”

I swivel around also so I can see him there in the back of the boat, poling us across.

“It just seems you may want to explain.” And then Charon looks at Shayne, and a lazy smirk covers his big, weathered face.

“Explain? What?” I ask.

Charon raises an eyebrow. “The exceptions. I just think they should be mentioned.”

“Charon. My rule follower.”

I look at Shayne, waiting, knowing he’ll go on.

He puts up his hands. “Every rule has exceptions. It’s the way of the world. One or two exceptions do not mean people can come back from the dead.” Shayne’s eyes blacken, and I see the red flashes. “People cannot leave Hell. That is the rule. But of course, as Charon has been so kind as to point out, there have been a couple exceptions over time.” He looks back at Charon. “A long time. And we never make a habit of it. And there are always consequences.”

I begin to ask the question I’ve been thinking, but the words won’t come out. I think it’s because I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.

“What?” Shayne tilts his head.

I shake my head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

But he persists. “Tell me.”

I take a deep breath and force the words out, realizing even as I say them I will be in the Underworld forever. Even if I haven’t died, I will remain here. No one leaves. And the thought hardly fazes me except I’ll have to leave Chloe. “Am I dead instead of Chloe? Will I be able to leave?”