Charon Unguarded (Ferryman Saga Book 1) Read online

  CHAPTER 6

  The Fae are Displeased

  The following morning went about as well as Charon expected. He slept through his alarm, tripped over the stupid cat, spilled hot coffee down his only clean shirt and missed his bus. It was still dark when he left the house, and drizzling, so he walked, cold and soaked as waiting for the next bus would have made him later. It wouldn’t do to draw any more attention.

  He had considered using some of his power to shield himself from the rain, but he couldn’t afford to squander it on his personal comfort. He might need it later. Who knew if he would be able to regain it? There had been no sign yet that the power he had could replenish in the mortal world so he dared not indulge. Showing off yesterday had been a mistake, and he regretted it. It’s just that Ra was so insufferably smug! No matter. I should not have provoked him. He’s probably watching me already.

  He thought back to the text message that Ra claimed had been nothing to do with him. Had Hermes traced it yet? He was due to meet him later to get his phone back but this did nothing to ease his anxiety and was no help at all when it came to deciding what to do next. The feeling that he was being watched was deeply uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like he was unused to being supervised.

  Unlocking the side door to let himself in, he noticed the night watch had left their usual carnage behind them. Empty takeaway wrappers and unwashed crockery were strewn over the little table in the kitchen. Their absence meant he was late. Oh, well. What are they going to do? Sack me? I should be so bleeding lucky.

  The light flickered and he sighed. Something else to fix. His mood was not improved by the incessant buzzing. Minor annoyances were snow-balling into a grinding resentment, and suspicion that the last nineteen centuries’ niggling irritations had been a personal campaign against him which culminated in this bloody stupid power game. He knew they hadn’t been. Not really. His superiors simply didn’t care enough to bother. He just was a useful tool. A gatekeeper to a building. They hadn’t even bothered to tell him why an empty building needed to be guarded at all times. Thanatos had never toyed with him like this. He had just let him get on with his job. The Furies and the Fates, on the other hand? They were a different matter.

  He shuddered and tried again to remember what Ra had promised to Osiris. It was no good. Even immortal memory wasn’t perfect and the longer he lived the more he had to try to make space for. At first the fine details would fade, until eventually he’d lost whole chunks of his existence. Diaries didn’t help either. After a while some things were just so far removed that it was like reading about someone else’s life. Not that he was complaining: his life before coming to the mortal world had been unbelievably boring. Secretly the real reason he kept ‘accidentally’ letting mortals cross the Styx was to break the monotony, not to mention the sheer satisfaction of seeing their faces on the other side. Dante had been livid, ‘the presumptuous berk’. He wished his memory loss could be a bit more selective. His thoughts wandered to Hel. Had she forgotten him? He wouldn’t blame her. She’d hated the facade of a mortal life and had not been shy about expressing herself. Then, one day, she was just gone.

  The kettle came to the boil and dragged him out of his thoughts. He didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself. He had to move on and now even this bleak existence was at stake. The door to the foyer was ajar but open far enough that he could catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He should have been the only one there. He placed the cup down as silently as he could and moved toward the door. Peering through the gap between the hinge and the frame he could make out a portion of the desk and, over the top, the upper portion of the front doors. Nothing moved for what seemed an eternity.

  Again, something flashed past the door, only inches from his nose, and he jerked his head back in shock. Whatever it was, was too fast for him to focus clearly on it. He peered out again. Was it aware of his presence? Did he want it to be? This was probably Ra messing with him in return for yesterday, but what creature of his could move like that? Charon hadn’t really mixed outside the various groups of demons and deities from the Underworld, so who knew what Ra had in his toolkit?

  Something was out there, there was no doubt about it. He could hear it whistling around the foyer. His foyer! Enough of this nonsense! He was going out there to send whatever it was on its way and out of his. Just as soon as he could convince his legs that it was a good idea. They were, as yet, not budging on the matter. How long had he been there now? Two minutes? Five? He had to do something but what? Maybe he should find out what it wanted first. ‘Fine,’ he said aloud and marched out to his desk. Had it been frightened off? The cavernous room appeared empty after a cursory glance but on closer examination he could hear giggling coming, very faintly, from a cobweb-covered plastic fern in the opposite corner.

  ‘Whoever you are, you have five seconds to stop messing me around and get out here before I call the police!’

  The leaves rustled once more and whatever it was shot out and started buzzing around his head. The ‘it’ turned out to be three tiny winged children. This was not good. They might appear to be children but they could well be older than he was and, more importantly, more powerful. Charon knew better than to judge by appearances. If they were what he suspected them to be then they were to be neither trusted nor tangled with. The stories of what happened to mortals caught meddling in Faery affairs were not an exaggeration. He was not mortal but this was no time to pick hairs.

  ‘Can I help you?’ It grated at every nerve he had to be deferential to what he regarded as pests, but it was unwise to offend them.

  ‘It is we who can help you,’ they said in unison. He felt the voices rather than heard them. ‘We come with a final warning, Ferryman. Your current path is unsafe. Walk away. Your involvement is not required.’

  ‘Who sent you?’ Charon frowned. The last two days had been weird. He mentally corrected that to ‘weirder than normal’. Generally, mortals didn’t bother manning the front desks of buildings they had long-since abandoned. However, that wasn’t to stop his superiors. They wanted to put on a good show but it would have helped if any of them had bothered to read the script. Leave it to the understudies.

  ‘We can say no more than it comes from the Fae. We were given a message to pass on to you and, if asked, to tell you that your attempts to trace your previous warning will fail. You interfere in matters which do not concern you.’ The creature’s voice was flat. They gave no hint of emotion but that was no bad thing. Learning that the Fae were displeased was very often a terminal experience.

  He decided to fob them off and get rid of them. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about--’

  Before the words had passed his lips, the creatures transformed themselves into human adult form, surrounded by blue, silver and green flames swirling around them. The blast of power which exploded from the transformation knocked Charon backwards onto the floor, and he landed hard. Pain surged up his back and down his leg and, momentarily, he could only lie there and wait for it to ease enough to get up.

  ‘Do not lie to us and do not think us foolish!’ The silver one snapped. ‘You have already interfered!’ It moved closer and leaned over him. The amiable cherubic face of the child had vanished under chiselled features of what appeared to be a young man in his mid to late twenties. Only this one was blue. Charon was now close enough to the creature to feel the draught under his enormous wings but he dared not offend it further by looking it in the eye. Damn it. I should have known better than that. The creature’s dark blue hair appeared to bristle with rage and indignation after being so blatantly lied to, as it bent lower. Charon then realised that it had not hair but feathers. Was this a glamour? Very few had seen the true appearance of one of the Fae and survived to tell the tale. What came next took Charon by surprise. The creature sighed and folded its arms. ‘Why do you cower? You are no mere mortal, and we are not here to harm you! Get up!’

  ‘I apologise for the insult. I did not wish to
offend you further. Please, allow me a few moments. I fell hard, and I am not as young as I look.’

  ‘Nor am I. The intent is appreciated, but unnecessary. The warning is for your own protection. You do not have the power to do anything about what is coming.’

  ‘I can’t just do nothing,’ Charon snapped as he groaned and struggled to his feet, then limped back to his chair. He sat slowly, wincing, as the seat took his weight. ‘I found out enough yesterday to tell me that much. If Ra is permitted to carry out his plan, we all die. He’s the only one who’ll get out of this alive.’

  ‘Ra?’ He signalled the other two who began examining him.

  ‘Yes, Ra! Tall fella. Gold eyes. Smug. Thinks he can push everyone around, including me. Ow! Stop prodding will you?’

  ‘My friends only wish to ease your pain. It was not our intention to cause injury. We were not expecting to find an old man.’ The creatures had thankfully ceased their light show. Unfortunately, the now absent flames had concealed the fact they were completely naked. He didn’t know where to look but suggesting they don mortal clothes might well provoke them again. He would just have to focus above the waist.

  ‘Yes, well, this was the body I got, and I don’t have the luxury of swapping for a shiny new one whenever the fancy takes me. Before you ask, no I don’t want you to do anything. I know better than that. Faery magic always comes with a catch.’

  ‘Very well,’ he smiled. ‘You were saying?’

  ‘What? Oh. Yes. Ra. He says he has heard that something big and scary is on its way, only he’s decided to keep exactly what that is to himself. He’s come up with some big idea to survive and won’t say what it is or when it’s due in case someone tries to stop him.’

  ‘This is something we should report back to our employer.’ He frowned.

  ‘Since when did fairies have employers? I thought you lot were above all that?’

  ‘Yes. Generally, we are, but we have an arrangement.’

  ‘Dare I ask who with? No. Forget it. I don’t want to know.’ Charon pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Look, lads, I really appreciate the sentiment. I have a mysterious benefactor somewhere that doesn’t want me to get hurt. That’s just great.’ He wondered if the Fae understood sarcasm. ‘But the creepy warnings can stop. Now. I don’t have time for all that and I am old enough to look after myself.’

  ‘You are not equipped for what is to come. It is unwise for you to pursue this. It will not end well if you do.’

  ‘Oh, and what exactly is to come? Look, nobody but me seems at all bothered about what happened in that meeting so unless I do something about it, equipped or otherwise, it looks like the rest of us get to play bit parts and get caught in it anyway. If I hadn’t been caught eavesdropping …’

  ‘You were not caught eavesdropping. You were overheard talking about it. Loudly. In a very public place. You lack discretion, Charon, and you risk exposing us all. It is a good thing it was our man who heard you, not someone else. It has taken us great trouble to convince the mortals that we are not real and we would like it to stay that way. Other than that, we would rather not get involved with the petty squabbles of fallen gods. You are here at our discretion and that means there are rules! If mortals get wind that we aren’t as imaginary as we made ourselves out to be, we will be in great peril. Their prejudice and fear has not decreased for all that their technology has advanced. We are not ignorant of their ways and know precisely what the more curious would do if one of us were caught.’

  He could well understand this fear but, for now, Charon had heard enough, ‘If I can’t stop Ra, along with whatever has him so spooked he thinks that ending the world is the only way to stop the world ending with him in it, we’re all dead. You, me, the mortals, everyone. Your cover being blown will be the least of our problems.’ The expressions on their faces were enough to tell him that this idea had taken them by surprise, but they were not arguing with him. So, faeries aren’t quite so all-knowing after all. ‘I have a message for you to take back: thanks, but no thanks. If I am the only one who has any intention of trying to fight this, that’s just how it must be. I might fail but at least I will have tried. What can the rest of you say? Hmm? Would you really rather be swallowed by the sea because you’re scared of blowing your cover, or too proud to work with fallen gods? Fine. You lot do what suits you, but don’t get in my way!’

  ‘Very well. We will pass on your message but we cannot protect you if you ignore this warning. We know a little about what is going on and might be what your friend, Ra, is afraid of.’

  ‘He’s not my friend.’

  ‘Irrelevant.’ He sighed. The relations between other races were of no interest to him. He cocked one dark blue eyebrow and looked at Charon with what could best be described as contempt. His tone had become flat and impassive again, ‘If you come to the old paint factory at midnight tonight there will be a meeting. If you are careful you may be able to observe them. I do not know what it concerns, just that some highly influential figures will be present. If you decide to go, you must go alone. We cannot protect you if you defy us.’ With that, they all transformed themselves back into the tiny creatures which had first greeted him and disappeared through the broken ceiling window.

  It took Charon a moment to compose himself. Faery magic was known to leave mortals feeling foggy but for it to have worked on him was just embarrassing. He knew one thing. He did not want their help and he made a mental note to visit a farrier for some iron nails to hide around the threshold. Modern steel didn’t quite work as well for some reason. He needed to take this in. It was getting weird. Someone was definitely watching him then, but at least it seemed to be benevolent. It irked him that they seemed to know what he was going to do even before he did. All they cared about was their own cover. They say mortals are selfish and greedy but have we really been the best examples? What was he talking about? The gods had gained more than their power from their stories. Their nature, or at least part of it, came from what was believed about them and, while the gods had revelled in their stories as a form of worship, they became inseparably linked to them. All the jealousy, greed, fear, distrust and vengeance of an immature species had been rolled up and packed into a divine shell.

  He pulled out Hermes’s phone and rang his own. It rang several times before he answered. ‘Any luck?’

  A muffled ‘No. Why? What’s happened? More messages?’ came back to him. He silently wished Hermes would not try to eat and talk on the phone.

  ‘You could say that. What do you know about faeries?’

  There was a crash of a desk chair hitting lino in the background. He waited for him to pick up the phone again. ‘Hello? Still there? Charon, I know enough to stay well away from them. Whatever they have offered you, say ‘no’.’ Hermes did not sound amused.

  ‘Relax. They warned me off. That’s all. We were heard talking and someone in that pub reported back to them. I wasn’t caught eavesdropping.’ Charon told Hermes about his encounter with his unlikely ‘allies’. As he recounted it, he considered that it was a good thing that Hermes was like him, because what he was saying sounded totally mad. Even the most spaced-out hippie in the world would have been giving him funny looks and edging away.

  ‘Okay. Charon, I know the last couple of days have been weird, but are you feeling okay? Faeries are not exactly known for their generosity. More for being tricky, devious, callous, mean-spirited little bastards. I wouldn’t trust them if my life depended on it.’

  ‘You could sound pleased?’

  ‘Why? In what possible scenario could you imagine that I would be pleased about faeries showing up!?’

  ‘Keep your voice down! I wasn’t very happy about it either, but we now know whoever it was that sent that text is a friend. The Fae didn’t know about Ra’s plan so whatever Ra is running from probably doesn’t know he knows either. Anyway, they told me to go to the old paint factory alone at midnight. You don’t have to come in, but I could do with a lift.’

  ‘Y
ou’re winding me up, right?’ Hermes spluttered. It sounded like he was choking on the other end of the line.

  ‘Nope. If you’re not up for it, I’ll just call a taxi …’

  ‘No way! I’m not letting you go wandering around up there alone. I’m in, if only to make sure you come back in one piece.’

  ‘Oh, come on. What’s the worst that could happen?’

  CHAPTER 7

  Subterfuge and Stealth … Sort Of

  Hermes sounded the car horn outside Charon’s house. As if in answer the lights began going out. Moments later Charon emerged from the house carrying torches and flasks under one arm, what looked like a cat under the other – it was not easy to tell exactly what lay under the spitting mass of ginger fur and bottle brush tail – with a key in his teeth. To Hermes, he resembled a retired buccaneer. He sincerely hoped that Charon did not plan to get involved any further than he already was. Immortality was not the same as invulnerability, but Charon seemed to have forgotten that fact. They could still be hurt, and while it was rare, becoming ill was not unheard of. A yowl and a hiss, and the rattle of scattering beer cans told him the ‘cat’ had had enough of being carried around like a large, hairy rugby ball and had made an escape. Hermes watched as Charon limped across the road and got in the car.

  ‘Stealthily done. I’m not sure if the whole street heard that. You should try to be louder next time.’ He paused. ‘What happened to you?’ He asked as Charon buckled up. It amused him that the former ferryman of the dead was concerned about personal safety in a car while on the way to spy on a meeting between gods knew what. It also occurred to him that as said ferryman, Charon could well imagine every nasty scenario which could possibly take place. He stopped smirking and fastened his own.