Charon Unguarded (Ferryman Saga Book 1) Page 9

  Eventually he asked to be directed to the Oracle. An old woman who was slowly shuffling a Tarot deck pointed to the back of the hall but not before dealing him a card without looking up. It was The Tower. He shuddered. It came to something when even a deck of cards was telling him to keep his head down and just accept whatever happened to him. Charon made his way toward the back of the hall. She really was travelling light. There was no table, no flouncy hangings, just a tripod and a small fire bowl which a young woman of approximately nineteen years was struggling to light. She was dressed in a grey tracksuit and pink trainers, her dark hair was scraped into a tight bun on the top of her head, and she was heavily made up. Her eyebrows had been plucked to two pencil line arches, giving her a permanent look of amused disdain. Was this her? She had to be an assistant.

  ‘Yeah, what ya gawpin’ at? Ain’t you never seen a tripod before?’

  ‘Sorry, I was looking for the Oracle.’

  ‘That’s me. What d’ya want?’ She snapped pink gum and continued trying to light the fire bowl.

  ‘Can I offer some assistance?’ The offer of help seemed to soften her for a moment. As one who was also not accustomed to offers of help, he understood how this might take her by surprise.

  ‘Nah. S’alrigh’, bu’ cheers for the offer. Greg’s out the back movin’ the car. Nearly got caught on double yellers and we can’t afford another fine. He normally deals with all the mystical shiny stuff to impress the public. I don’t see the poin’ if I’m bein’ honest. I mean, I don’t need it but punters expect a show. I draw the line at wearin’ a dress. Especially one tha’ looks like some grandma’s net cur’ains.’ She’d almost spat the word ‘dress’. Charon almost smiled but the girl’s persistent dropping of ‘t’s and ‘h’s made him wince. ‘What’s so funny?’ she snapped.

  ‘Nothing. You’re just not quite what I expected. That’s all.’

  She grinned. ‘I never am. Is this gonna take long, love, cos I’ve got payin’ customers comin’.’

  ‘Aren’t I paying?’

  ‘In a way. I always consult for you lot in exchange for favours. Sometimes a favour is more valuable than money, bu’ we all have to ea’. I want two things from you. The first is the truff’.’

  ‘Truff?’

  ‘Yeah. That thing where you don’ tell me a load of tall tales about what my info is gonna be used for.’

  ‘Oh, the truth. I’m not sure how much I can say. I’m sworn to secrecy but Carnus said you could help me?’

  ‘With wha’?’ She laughed, ‘Look, I ain’t some creepy seer with the whole universe in my head. You actually have to ask me a question, but I can tell when someone is ‘aving me on so you might as well tell me straight.’

  ‘Okay.’ Charon paused. ‘I have to pass on a very important message to someone but the Council can’t find out. The problem is I can’t find this person without poking around.’

  ‘Naughty, naughty. Keepin’ secrets from the Council,’ she taunted in mock horror. ‘Must be serious if you’re on the run from that lot.’

  ‘I’m not ‘on the run’. I just don’t want to involve them. They are not helpful. Too concerned about risking exposure and breaking the settlement conditions to do what is needed. I can’t go into it here. You’d not believe me anyway, but if I can’t get this message through, the ire of the Council will be the least of our worries.’ He paused and breathed deeply. ‘How do I contact Zeus?’ He had obviously spoken more loudly than he expected to because he could have heard a pin drop as everyone had stopped talking and were now glaring at the pair of them.

  The girl rolled her eyes and spoke loudly to the room, ‘Oi! You lo’, mind your own bleedin’ business will ya, this is a priva’e conversation!’ The spectators went back to arranging their stalls and talking amongst themselves, but Charon was certain the topic of their conversation had now suddenly changed to them. She took his arm and led him behind a large display board. ‘Are you mad? What d’ya wanna get mixed up with that lot for?’

  ‘I have an urgent message. I must pass it on,’ Charon hissed back. He was finding his temper fraying. He had been holding on to this message for more than a week and had no idea what was going on other than he was going to be in big trouble if he didn’t pass it on soon.

  She looked at him through narrowed eyes and pursed her lips. ‘Fine. I’m convinced your intentions are honourable. It’s none of my business, but from my experience, nothin’ good ever comes from getting involved in god business. They get you to do them a favour and before you know i’ you’re being sacrificed on your own altar.’

  ‘Sorry …?’

  ‘Never mind, sore point. And stop saying you’re sorry! You’re takin’ a massive risk for them and I don’t think you are gettin’ anything in return. Am I right?’ Charon nodded. ‘You seem like a decent bloke, and I’ve been around for a damned sight longer than I look like I ‘ave, so here’s some free advice. This lot in here are mortal which means they are dangerous, at least as far as the Council are concerned. Most of them are total frauds and wouldn’t know a psychic vision if it jumped up and bit them on the bum. Others, like Minnie at the Tarot tables, are legit and could do you some proper damage if they decide you are trouble. My point is, you don’t know who is listening so keep your bloody voice down! The Council would’ve skinned me for risking exposure like that.’ Charon thought back to the first warning text. He’d already been heard, and warned, by the Fae to watch his step. It was turning out that ‘stealthy subterfuge’ did not appear in his skillset.

  ‘Can you answer my question in a way that I can understand it?’

  ‘Not unless you happen to be versed in Oracular prophecy. ‘Ad a crash course at the college, have we?’ she winked. ‘I tell it as it comes to me.’

  ‘Very clever.’

  A voice called from the other side of the screen, ‘Zoë? Where have you gone this time? You best not be having another crafty fag, woman. You know the nicotine suppresses your visions.’

  ‘That’s just Greg. Short for Gregorios.’ She rolled her eyes and pulled Charon back round to the other side of the screen to the tripod.

  The face of the man who stood waiting would not have been out of place on a vase but his clothes and hair gave him the appearance of a man who had given up trying to keep up with current fashions in 1953. His straight nose, olive skin, and mess of swept back and oiled curls instantly gave away his Mediterranean roots, but this was coupled with tightly fitted jeans turned up at the ankle with red converse trainers, a plain white shirt which hugged his torso, and wore the sleeves rolled to the shoulders showing off his muscular arms. A leather motorcyclist’s jacket had been dumped on the chair next to the tripod. It wasn’t much but even this view was attracting the attention of many of the ladies in the hall. ‘Greg was my priest many moons ago. Now he’s my man with a van.’ She saw the disapproving look on Greg’s face and appeared to only just realise she was still holding Charon’s hand. She patted his arm and released him. ’Don’t worry, Greg. It’s only Charon.’ She laughed at his surprised expression. ‘Wha’? You didn’t think I wouldn’t recognise ya, did ya?’

  ‘Yeah. I know who he is. What’s he want here?’ Greg, still eyeing him suspiciously, held out a hand to Charon who took it cautiously and Charon felt about as welcome as a scorpion in the bathtub. Priest or not he was not to be trifled with, and if the man’s handshake was anything to go by, he stayed in shape. The grip was a clear warning to Charon but he was sure the feeling in his fingers would return in time. Charon let his eyes flare and Greg looked away first. His dark curls shook as he turned back to Zoë. ‘Lit the bowl yet?’ He released Charon’s hand and put his own in his pockets.

  ‘Nope. It won’t light for me.’

  Greg smiled and shook his head, ‘Lighter?’

  She tossed him the pink disposable she’d been struggling with earlier. ‘Be my guest.’ She smirked. ‘Once that’s lit I’ll do my thing, but first, I need you to understand that owing me a non-specified favour
is no joke. I will claim it, and you will be obligated to honour that price. Clear?’ Carnus had neglected to offer this little gem of information. Seers, Soothsayers, Oracles, all the bloody same, he thought, and he was promising to owe one of the Sisters – possibly the first – ’a favour’ in exchange for a riddle that he would have to go and decipher on his own. He knew he didn’t have a choice but that didn’t make him feel any happier about it.

  ‘Fire’s ready,’ Greg said, still eyeing Charon.

  ‘Give me two minutes,’ Zoë leaned over the bowl, staring into the flames and breathing deeply.

  ‘Oi! You want me to write this down for you?’

  ‘Yes but no embellishments please. I need it exactly as she says it.’

  ‘Of course.’ He looked offended. Greg took a battered reporter’s notebook and yellow Bic biro, which had apparently been repaired with several feet of yellowing sellotape, out of a collapsible crate by his feet and perched on the high stool next to the tripod. ’It looks like she’s ready to go. Open your ears, ferryman.’

  Zoë stepped away from the bowl swaying slightly. Tears streaked her cheeks, and Charon wasn’t sure how much was soot and how much was eyeliner. Her blue eyes had darkened almost to black. Suddenly she threw out her arms and her head tilted back until Charon was sure that she would be unable to speak. A hot wind which seemed to have come from nowhere whipped around her, upsetting flyers, and cards were sent flying all around the hall. People ducked for cover as candles were blown out and hangings billowed against their pins. This was obviously not something even the regulars had seen before. Charon backed against the wall and tried to shield his face from the uncomfortably hot wind. Now he understood why she said she didn’t need the window dressing.

  Finally, she began to speak in a hoarse, rasping whisper.

  ‘Danger bodes where ice meets flame and untrue servants show their colours.

  Underneath the canopy of death on the ancient crescent island,

  Wise, winged serpents taking their final rest shall provide answers.’

  CHAPTER 13

  The Aftermath

  What Zoë had seen had shaken her to her core. Once the hot wind and the fire in the tripod had died, she collapsed against Greg, who rushed to catch her. Her nose was bleeding. One of the ladies from the rune table barged past Charon with a box of tissues as Greg helped her into the chair, ‘Zoë!’ he snapped his fingers in front of her face. ‘Zo, stay awake love.’ Zoë was now sobbing and delirious with grief and fear.

  Charon stepped aside to avoid the chaos of fussing mediums, apothecaries, tarot readers, and a distraught oracle and realised even his legs were shaking. Was this fright? Shock? After all he had seen in his long years, it took a lot to shock him. He considered quietly disappearing with the prophecy and trying to decode it himself but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon her. He felt responsible for her pain and fright. Not that he knew much of this sort of thing. For all he knew, this was the standard reaction to conversing with the gods. It occurred to him then, that he hadn’t even asked who she was trying to channel. No. He couldn’t just leave.

  In a bid to feel useful, and make up for some of the fright he had caused, he made his way to the small kitchen and helped himself to one of the neatly laid out cups for tea and coffee and a jug of water, much to the consternation of the women running it. He glowered at them and gestured back at the crowd of people now looking after Zoë. It was unlikely that anyone could have missed that little display so a cup out of place was hardly a priority. Another woman came in, nodding her approval when she noted the water and the cup in his hand. She looked him straight in the eye without fear or contempt and beckoned him over to the back door.

  ‘You know who I am, madam?’

  ‘I know. I know what she is too. What I want to know is what you want and why. How much do you understand about what she just said?’

  ‘Not much. I’ll have to think about it, but I am running out of time.’ He looked through the serving hatch at the crowd looking after Zoë. ‘Will she be okay?’

  ‘She’s in good hands. Leave her to Greg and the others.’ She smiled. ‘You’re not like the others, are you?’

  ‘Madam?’

  ‘Not consumed with rage and jealousy. Not forever trying to get one over on others of your kind. Nothing to prove.’

  ‘I’m not sure I have a kind.’ This was true. As there was only ever one of him and he didn’t experience any form of infancy, he was almost certain that he had come in kit form. All he remembered of the time before was being a servant. Nobody else remembered him having parents either. Even Cerberus had parents for crying out loud. Not that it mattered now. ‘Not to be rude but, do I know you?’

  ‘Unlikely. In my time, I was known as Wadjet. You and I would have mixed in very different circles. Back to business. Charon, what are you doing here? Have you any idea how many humans witnessed that? If the Council hear of this …’ She tutted and folded her arms.

  ‘Carnus sent me here. I didn’t realise it would be so… conspicuous. I have been tasked to pass on a very important message but I cannot find the person I am supposed to pass it on to. I was trying to maintain a level of discretion but now everyone is going to know I’m on some sort of mission. I only came to see if she could tell me where Zeus was hiding these days.’

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t help you. I don’t think Zoë can tell you either. Carnus is a foolish old man to send you to such a public place. He’ll expose us all.’ She patted his hand. ‘You leave him and this mess to me. There is good reason the oracles are supervised and this has just about broken every rule going. It’ll take me hours to convince this lot they were just seeing things.’

  Charon smiled. ‘The Fae have already voiced their displeasure over my carelessness.’

  ‘I heard. Which is why I will deal with this. The Fae might be full of hot air but they will not tolerate more mistakes and they can cause very real harm. You need to get that message from Greg and then make yourself scarce.’

  * * *

  Charon stared at the crumpled piece of paper with the scrawled prophecy on it and nursed his third pint. After several hours of trying to decipher the note and failing to make any sense out of it he had given up and sent a message to Hermes. ‘Danger bodes where ice meets flame,’ was clearly referring to the Ice Giants working in cahoots with the Titans, but he knew that already. He wasn’t sure if the reference to servants was plural for a reason but it was certainly logical to assume that more than one person had released the Giants and Titans, as none but an Olympian would have had access. The Ice Giants too had been off-limits to any but the Norse. Even Yahweh had not been foolish enough to release the prisoners of the Gods.

  The pub door opened. Hermes sauntered in like he owned the place and joined Charon at the table. Charon took Hermes’ opting out of buying a drink as a clear signal that he had no intention of staying or drinking with him. Again, his face was an impassive mask. No, not blank. He’s angry.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Good to see you too. When I couldn’t get hold of you about meeting Zeus I went to see an Oracle …’

  ‘You what!’ Hermes visibly tensed. ‘Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?’

  ‘Calm down and lower your voice. I was running out of time, you were nowhere to be found and Odin has been on my case.’ He passed Hermes the note. ‘I can’t work out more than the first part. I was hoping that you would understand it. Do you want a beer?’ He decided not to ask him why he had left his position.

  ‘No. I don’t have time,’ Hermes murmured as he read it through. ‘Which oracle gave you this?’ he asked, looking at the note as if it was about to bite him.

  ‘Her name is Zoë. Carnus knows her so I assume she’s an Oracle to Zeus.’

  ‘And she couldn’t just tell you?’

  ‘Wouldn’t. Apparently, it doesn’t work like that. Whatever she saw, she took a serious turn for the worse. I couldn’t get near her or her priest for clarification
. It was all very … public.’

  ‘You’d better hope the Fae courts …’

  ‘Apparently, it’s being dealt with.’

  ‘Who by?’

  ‘Someone in charge of the oracles.’ It occurred to Charon that Hermes was more interested in who had heard the prophecy than the prophecy itself. Was Hermes avoiding the question? It wasn’t the first time he’d been cagey over this. How far would he go to keep ‘his friends’ safe?

  ‘Suit yourself. It’s probably not important anyway.’ Hermes yawned hugely. ‘The ancient serpent could be referring to the dragons and the only crescent-shaped island I can think of off the top of my head is Japan. I think it’s a waste of time. As far as I’m concerned, they are already extinct.’

  ‘It won’t be easy to find them then.’

  ‘You could try the forest at the foot of Mount Fuji. I’ve heard whispers about those woods. If you go, as you appear determined to keep digging, do not go without an offering. It must be something personal to you. Is there anything else?’

  ‘I need to pass on this message. Have you been able to get hold of Zeus?’

  ‘Yes. He wants a word with you too. You must present yourself at five o’clock on Tuesday. The conference room at Windsor Court at the Kingsmead Business Park. Zeus doesn’t want you reporting the location of his actual place of work back to potential enemies. Word to the wise, he is not happy that you have demanded his attention like this.’

  ‘I demanded nothing. I sought a moment of his time to pass on a message. What the hell have you told him?’