Chapter Twenty

“She is back! The Harbinger brings news to Styx.”

—HermesHarbinger.com

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Brent said as we huddled outside on the cabin’s patio. My hair was still wet from my shower. I had my cell phone to my ear, trying over and over to call Papa or Delia. This was not the best place to discuss our future or what we should or shouldn’t do, but every other room in the cabin was occupied.

“I can’t get a hold of them,” I said, punching the digits on the smartphone screen. “Delia said the Trivials might be tapping into our phones.”

“Ollie…” He put his hands on my shoulders.

“It’s not like Delia not to answer. And Papa, too. I would’ve thought by now that they would’ve called or something. I’m worried.”

“Ollie, listen to me.” He squeezed my shoulders tighter. “I don’t think you should go on television and tell the world the truth.”

My attention snapped from the phone to Brent’s blue eyes. “Styx deserves the truth.”

“I know, darlin’. But if Styx knows the entire truth, it might cause more chasms than bridges.” Snowflakes began trickling from the sky. A couple landed in Brent’s beard before melting.

I pulled the hood around my head and tucked my dreadlocks inside for protection.

“How then will we explain all the souls that need to still be crossed over, Brent? These Stygians here probably know someone who has been executed. If they find out their loved ones never actually crossed over, they’ll go nuts.”

“Or they’ll be relieved,” he said with one eyebrow cocked.

“What?”

His smile turned a little crooked, like he just realized something great. “Everyone who ever crossed Marin or committed a high-level Offense supposedly went to Erebus, right?”

Erebus was our hell. It was where Marin sent all of his enemies and traitors and rebels. It was where Mama, Clover’s beloved sister, and surely hundreds of others were. The place was worse than any other punishment, yet many went there in the name of freedom and goodness.

My heart did a somersault. “Does that mean we can still save those who weren’t crossed over?”

He nodded, slowly, and without certainty. “That might be the case. We can get them to Elysia. We can do that, but I think we have to stay mum on Marin’s shortcomings.”

Sometimes people just didn’t need to know the whole truth. Just like a parent who kept some of the finer, grittier details of life from their children for the sake of their innocence, Brent’s stance made sense. He was cautious. He didn’t want to open this can of worms and shove it down Styx’s throat.

But I did. Because if I knew one thing, it was that the truth, no matter how scathing, was the right of every single soul in Styx. It was up to them to decide how to handle the news and not for a small few to keep secrets hidden from them for fear of what could happen.

“Then if what you say is true, this is more of a reason to tell them all about Marin,” I said.

Brent set his jaw. He wanted to argue. I could see words of protest struggling to form on his lips. “Then what happens after your announcement?”

“We go back to Lethe and do what we always do.” I placed my phone in his hand. “I’ve got to get ready for this announcement. Please try calling Papa and Delia. I need to know they’re okay.”

“You ready?” Azim said with his head poked out the cabin door. “Because the Interceptor is.”

It was strange seeing so many rebels inside and outside the cabin. The sight gave me hope. After this long journey, more than anything I wanted to see that everything was okay, my friends safe, and then I’d finally relax for good. Going at it with a handful of allies was a gift, but it had its shortcomings. One can only do so much with a few good friends. But trying to save the world with a few thousand was far more uplifting.

There was a mission now—share the news with Styx and, through my words, unite them. Marin had done amazing work dividing and destroying our morale. He had done it for so long that to us, it was normal. Now, it was my turn.

For this broadcast, the second in my life and my last if I had any say, I would give it from outside the cabin where hordes of fellow rebels congregated around me. I intended to show those in Styx who were in remote places or felt alone that we could remain unified even from afar, that there were those who could help here in Quebec and those who could help from across the globe.

I stood with the Isle of Orleans as my backdrop and the thousands of rebels standing united behind me, side by side. I wore my red sweatshirt in honor of Violet Magby, Clover’s sister who died for the rebel’s cause, a soul who would go onto Elysia with all the rest, if I had any say.

This time, Clover held the camera—a smartphone—in the palm of her hand. This time, I didn’t hold Brent’s discarded flannel in my hands while he was held captive in Lethe being interrogated by Head Reaper Marin. This time, I held nothing, and I felt nothing. I simply breathed and watched for Azim to give me the sign that I was on live Stygian television.

Off to one side, Brent held my cell phone to his ear. He never spoke into it as if someone had answered his calls. He would lower the phone after a minute, tap the screen, and then put it back to his ear. He did this over and over. My heart grew heavier as the cycle continued.

Delia and Papa were still not answering their phones.

They, along with Nicodemus, were in trouble. I felt it in my bones.

“On three, two, one…” Azim drew me back to the phone in Clover’s hands.

For a moment, I stared into the little camera, wondering how in the world I had come back around to this. I must’ve looked a little off standing there, staring blankly.

What did I mean to say, again?

“Ollie,” Azim whispered. “You’re live.”

I shook my head to loosen the anxiety. “Oh. Uh. Greetings, Styx!”

You sound like an ass, my inner voice hissed. Sound like a leader, for Hades’ sake!

One more time, I shook my head, smiled because I remembered Clover mentioning the warmth in my smile, and said with a little more confidence, “Remember me? I’m Olivia Iris Dormier. I am a Master Scrivener. And I have some news that you’ll want to hear.”

Clover gave me a wink from behind the camera. There was much to that wink—most specifically that she was cheering me on, to say exactly what needed to be said.

“There has been speculation that Marin’s recent broadcasts were pre-taped. I can confirm that is the truth. I know this because a month ago, I was in Lethe where I went face-to-face with the Head Reaper. Clearly, I survived. However, he did not. Marin is dead.”

I paused as the voices of rebels around me spread this news across the hundreds upon hundreds standing in the field behind me. There was no reason to turn around and look at their faces. The sounds of shock, awe, and quiet cheers were enough to tell me that this news was good news. I noticed a few grumblings of disbelief. Is she lying? Where’s the proof?

“I have no body or video to show you to prove that he’s gone. All I ask is that you trust me when I say that I was the one who destroyed Marin.” I cleared my throat and then waited until the voices behind me settled into a low hum. “Before he died, I learned a truth that rattled me to my core. This truth hurts me. It will hurt many of you. But you deserve the truth; you deserve to know.”

From the corner of my eye, I spotted Brent staring at me. I felt his anxiety.

“Marin was not who he said he was,” I quickly uttered before I could keep it a secret forever. “Marin was not a Reaper or an Eidolon or even a Watchmen. He was a Master Scrivener like me. It was Marin who ordered the Scrivener massacre, the deaths of his own kin, to protect his secret for fear of being deposed.”

The buzzing of voices grew louder.

“Marin only wanted power, not to properly lead Styx. He wanted to know that he sat on the top of the pyramid and he wielded his power to the deadliest level. Some of you might wonder how he crossed over all those souls and, though he crossed a few with the help of Eidolon Chadwick Brooks, he did not cross over all of them. This means that if any of your beloved were executed under Marin’s rule, you can find some solace in that they are not in Erebus, but lost. They can and will be sent to Elysia, but only with your help. It would be easy for Styx to simply replace Marin with a proper Grim Reaper, but there’s more to this story.”

The faces of my allies were mixed. Clover was hopeful. Azim, Puck, and Manny grew tense. Brent wore no expression that I could read. Others around me were hinged on what I was about to say.

“Trivials, soulless Stygians, have taken over Marin’s former stronghold and the capital of Styx. They’re threatening to wreak havoc on Styx for the crimes Marin set upon them during his tenure. They’re angry and rightfully so. As a Scrivener, I was and am angry for what Marin allowed during the Purge. I am also angry to know that he, a Scrivener like me, would carry out our demise out of fear of losing his ultimate control. Trivials are Stygians. They deserve to have their voices heard. Justice will prevail for everyone. But hurting innocent Stygians will not. And those Trivials in Lethe who want to continue the bloodshed and keep Styx broken will not win.

“I want to restore Styx to the way it was before Marin rose to power. I want to put new leadership in place that wants goodness, not wickedness. That Stygian or Stygians will not include me. It will be qualified Reapers, ones whom all of Styx will vote into office. So, if you’re near Quebec or wish to come to help me stand against the Trivials, then meet me at the Fontaine de Tourny at sunset tomorrow. I will bring my friends, and united, this will be our chance for justice, to restore Styx to what it once was, with a legitimate leader capable of his or her job. Let us make this a peaceful pursuit. And if not peaceful, let us not forget that our real enemy is gone. What we have to fight now is the hate and fear that he left behind.”

Clover nodded before she lowered the cell phone. My broadcast—my last—was over. Now, we would ride to the Fontaine de Tourny in just under twenty-four hours and, hopefully, find other Stygians willing to help us put Styx back together again.

“We have a day to get everything in order,” I said to Azim and Clover. “The Trivials will be ready for us.”

I expected to be bombarded with questions. I would have to wade through a sea of rebels closing in around me with comments, concerns, and possibly threats. The energy around me was electric, and one spark would ignite chaos. As much as I wanted to quell everyone’s concerns and assure them goodness would prevail, I was also afraid of getting trampled.

Brent saw the concern in my eyes before I had to ask him for help. Within seconds, I was swept into a mist of icy darkness just as I remembered from my first days with Brent. Half-death. I would never forget this for as long as I lived. Pain rippled through my body, starting first at my core. Before I wanted to scream and before the agony became too much to bear, the darkness of his miasma peeled back like velvet stage curtains.

Before us was the familiar smooth, amber wood marquee of Le Nektar Coffee Shop—the place where Brent and I first met. The outside looked exactly the same as I remembered. Trendy but low-key. We stood across the street from the place with two rows of parked cars and light traffic between the shop and us.

In a tiny sliver between being whisked away from the impromptu press conference to standing in front of the coffee shop I had called home for so many years, I felt as if reality fell away or that I had been thrust back in time to a less stressful point in my life. I was back to living out my days as a loyal but angry servant of Head Reaper Marin, drinking coffee made by my best human friend, Eve. My heart jumped inside my chest at the thought of seeing Eve again. The mess that she had been unwittingly pulled into was gone. I was just a Scrivener. Not a Master. I hadn’t lost Mama or Eve. I hadn’t met Delia or Nicodemus or Errol yet.

I hadn’t met Brent.

When I took a step toward the coffee shop, a hand clutched my elbow. I snapped to attention when a car zipped across my path, blaring its horn. The fantasy faded. The hand on my elbow was Brent’s.

He was here. He was familiar.

“You need to look both ways, darlin’,” he said. “Don’t make my job too easy now.”

Those ocean blue eyes lowered my anxiety. I was safe with him—at least, until I ended up with another Deathmark. I could handle myself just fine without him. “I usually do look both ways.”

“Well, I’m here to help in those rare moments when you don’t.” He winked.

My stomach fluttered just as it had when I first met him. In some ways, I felt like we were on a first date, even though our souls had known each other for so much longer. I had to wonder if we knew each other before we became living beings. Perhaps we plotted out this chaotic journey long before our births as a way to reunite us in the most exciting, extreme way.

“Why did we come here?” I asked.

He pulled me across the street after looking both ways for traffic. When he opened the door of the Le Nektar for me, a whiff of warm air, coffee beans, and happiness washed over me. My mind knew I would not see Eve at the counter waiting to take my order, but my heart hoped that I would. As I turned to look at the counter where coffee drinks were made to order, I saw a young man with blond hair in his eyes, his face bright with cheer. Brent and I walked hand in hand to the counter, placed our orders, and carried our full cups of coffee to a small table in the corner of the shop.

I glanced about once we settled into our spots. The college student and the old couple were not in their usual spots, though it seemed silly to think they would be after two years. Still, I wondered if they would show up or if they had already visited earlier in the day. The brown painted walls made me feel comfortable, safe even. Being here with Brent certainly helped with the feelings of ease.

We sipped our drinks. A strip of foam clung to his upper lip before he licked it away. Brent appeared to want to smile, like he was trying to be flirtatious, but there was a heft to his gaze. I lowered my mug of coffee to its saucer. I was ready to talk if he had something to share.

“I have a secret,” he said, his voice low and hushed.

I raised my eyebrows. Go on.

“I don’t like coffee.”

My eyebrows rose higher, if that was even possible. “You what?”

“I don’t like it. Too bitter.”

How do I not know this? “But we’ve had coffee together more than once.”

“I know.”

“Then…if you wanted to tell me this now, why did you order a coffee?”

“Because it’s the hip thing to do, right?” Suddenly Brent looked a little sheepish. Knowing what he could do and the power that he held, his slightly hunched shoulders and scrunched brow became humorous to me. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not.” I snorted. “Okay, I am.”

He allowed me the time that I needed to laugh, so I made sure to enjoy the moment. In that time, he sipped his coffee, making a face as he did. Once I had enough, I quieted down, composed myself, and then took a drink of my own coffee. The slightly fruity flavor warmed me through and through.

“I didn’t bring you here to confess that I hate coffee. Although I did worry you’d break up with me for it. I sort of lose my charm without a coffee in my hand, huh?”

I cocked my head to one side. “Well, now that you say it, you sorta do.”

Hurt crept into the corners of his eyes, but I knew he knew that it was a joke.

Still.

“I’m teasing,” I said. “I’d never dump you over coffee, even Le Nektar coffee. But do you think you can tell me why we’re really here?”

“Now that you’re done laughing at me, sure.” He took my hands in his, lacing our fingers together so that neither of us could dare to lift our drinks. The strategy, at least part of it, was to avoid having to drink the ghastly, bitter-to-him brew. The other part, I waited patiently to hear as he paused to gaze at me.

“What is it?” I asked, growing uncomfortable. He had something big to say, and the longer he looked at me, the seemingly heavier and bigger it got.

“Ollie, I’m your Grim Reaper. That will never change. When your time finally comes, and hopefully it won’t be for a very, very long time, I’m going to be the one to ferry you. I need to know that you’re at peace with that.”

I considered his words. They moved like silk over his tongue. His voice alone was enough to assure me that he would honor his job as my Grim Reaper with care and love. My brain screamed at me that I had nothing to fear from him, that I should consider myself lucky for having such a caring soul as my guide to the Afterlife.

But his words weren’t enough. I could not make peace with it. Not yet, anyway.

“You don’t have to tell me now that you’re okay with it, though,” he added. “I’ll wait for as long as you need it.”

I gave him a nod to say “thanks” as I fought back my own cocktail of emotions—grief, happiness, regret, anger, relief.

“Anyway,” he said after he cleared his throat. “I have something I’ve been meaning to give to you since we left the Acheron. There just hasn’t been a good time until now. Even now, it isn’t. That’s why I whisked you away. You’re always on the go.” His blue eyes lowered to our hands and then rose back to meet my gaze.

“Trust me, I don’t live to be on the go. I would give anything to relax in the mountains with you by my side.” Even though my voice felt like dry sand as I spoke, this declaration made me feel both blissful and melancholy. We were so close to that dream, yet still so far from owning it. “So what do you want to give me, eh?”

“Well, I’ve kept this safe long enough. It’s time you take it back.”

My throat tightened, hands began to quiver. And as they shook, my arms followed and then my legs. Somehow, my body knew before my brain what it was he was talking about. Then, my eyes began to water because they picked up on my body’s message. They knew and then they begged my heart to listen.

“Brent?” I said as his hands unraveled from mine to cup my cheeks. Gently his lips met mine. To anyone in Le Nektar, we were two lovers engaging in a simple kiss on the lips, nothing too intimate or private. Just a kiss. One little, sweet kiss between two beings.

But it was much more. In that kiss, energy skipped between us, moving from Brent to me. He was not taking anything away from me as he had in Lethe during my trial. He instead was giving it back. The kiss was short, sweet as pie, and as our lips parted I fluttered my eyes open to see him again. His hands lingered on my cheeks. They were warm, and they held me upright as I felt my torn soul becoming whole again, piecing the frayed edges, healing me to the Stygian I once was.

This act was so small. It was almost nothing in the wake of all the horror and trauma we had endured. Nevertheless, my soul quivered with bliss. For so long we fought, never knowing if we’d get this chance. Death and misery had always been one step behind us. Marin had made sure of it. But now, in the corner of Le Nektar, doing something as normal as having coffee together, I was made whole again. The sensation between having my complete soul as opposed to half of my soul was minimal. At least for now. But I did feel the smallest hints of frayed edges of myself being sewn slowly and meticulously back together. Perhaps it was what a human felt after the break of a fever. They are still exhausted and weary, but on the mend.

Tears trickled down my cheeks and over his hands. I was certain too that his eyes were cloudy, but I didn’t mention it. He then put his lips to my forehead, before he pulled back and gazed at me with a look of gratitude.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long, I was sure it would never happen,” he said.

Words failed me. I sat staring at him, crying, my hands gripped around his forearms.

“I kept that part of you safe, Ollie. I told you I would.”

I believed him, though, I didn’t have to hear him say it. As I breathed in, filling my lungs, I felt as if I had more air and more energy. My body felt more powerful. Energy moved through me, relearning the journey around this once familiar body.

“Ever since your trial, you’ve done everything with half your soul. Everything. You don’t know the pain it caused me to keep that part of your soul protected while I was under the compulsion of my duty to Styx. Every moment felt like I was moving through fire, Ollie. But I would do it all again for you.” He stroked away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Now that you’re whole, I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re capable of. What I do know is that you’re the most powerful Stygian I know. The most powerful I’ll ever know.”

I had done what I thought I couldn’t—destroy Marin and overcome his Deathmark—all with half of my soul. Brent was right. There was so much more I could do. And the only thing I wanted to do was good. It was the only thing that mattered now.

“Je t’aime, my darlin’.”

“Je promet.” I kissed the backs of both of his hands. I still couldn’t form the words to tell him I loved him, but I could tell him what else was in my heart. “Merci, mon amour.”