Skeleton Keys (on hold)

Chapter Thirteen

There was a moment of swirling vertigo as I stepped through the portal. I panicked as I stumbled on to the dirt path, holding on to my Scythe so tightly my knuckles ached.

“You okay?” Apollo said. 

I looked up to say I wasn’t sure, but the words caught in my throat as I saw the group standing only a few feet ahead. There wasn’t anything different about them. The spirits were still a little see-throughy and Apollo was still gorgeous, but it was the scene behind them that took my breath away. The trail we stood on sloped downward, following the side of a cliff. My eyes glanced up along the rock face to see that it was actually large stalagmite and that we stood in some sort of under ground cavern. Little puffs of light floated around, gathering above us like our own personal constellations. Their light filled the cavern with a soft, blue-white glow. I reached up to touch one as it drifted near, but Apollo caught my hand and pulled it back. 

“Don’t touch them,” he warned, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

“What are they?” 

“Lost Ones. Souls that wondered from their groups, or who’ve been banished from your world. If you touch them, they’ll latch on and haunt you for a while.” He turned away from me and back to our group. He raised his voice, sending the lights above us dispersing in a startled movement. “Follow me, stay close. We’ve a bit of a walk to the boat.” 

"Boat?"  I glanced over the side of the path way, but I couldn't see more that the few yards in the darkness. When I looked back, the group had already started along the path without me. 

I shouldered my Scythe, took a deep breath and caught up with the back of the group, trying not to look over the edge of the trail as the path grew narrower. Instead, I watched the dancing lights as they floated above us. It reminded me of the time when I was visiting with Grandpa back when my parents were still together. It’d must of been late in the summer, sometime before I started middle school. We’d sit on the front porch of his cabin by the lake, eating watermelons while we watched the fireflies. The memory brought a smile to my lips. 

About twenty minutes later, we reached the bottom, where the path led out to a sliver of rocky beach. Black water lapped at the shore with a low mist rolling off the waves. 

Apollo turned, looking over the heads of the gathering souls to catch my eye. "Mary," he beckoned. 

I headed to the front of the group, trying not to shiver. It felt like I was walking through the freezer section at the grocery store. 

“You need to summon the boat to take us across the Stix.”

Right, the whole Charon thing. “How?” I asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. 

“Bring the blade of your Scythe down, just so that the tip touches the surface of the water.” 

I followed  Apollo’s instructions, and dipped the blade into the dark water. My Scythe pulsed hard enough to shake my hands as I tried to hold it steady over the water. With each wave of energy it unleashed, a light grew at the tip of the blade and then shot off across the water into the thickening mist. We stood there for a good while, and Istarted to think that I hadn’t done it right. 

I was about to voice my concerns when a sound drifted over from the mist; like the water hitting wood. Slowly, I watched the swirling white clouds reveal a long wooden boat that was making its way towards the shore. 

"That's it?" I asked, not bothering to look over at Apollo. I was too busy staring that the death contraption of wood as it ran itself up on the beach. The boat looked like it was about to fall apart. 

"That's it," Apollo said, and lightly touched my hand. He pulled my Scythe up out of the water. "You'll want to dry the blade, they can rust like any other steel." 

He produced a handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans and wiped the blade for me. I tried not to focus on where he'd touched my hand and the tingling sensation it'd left behind. If I didn’t get a grip on my emotions soon, I’m going to end up making a idiot out of myself. 

We ushered the souls on to the boat and I went to climb in behind them, but before I could take one step into the water, Apollo caught my hand, stopping me. In the breath it took to form a question, blackness surrounded me like a thick fog. The ground dropped from beneath my feet and it felt as if I was set spinning. But I could feel Apollo's hand, still gripped tightly around mine. The sensations lasted only a moment, and then my feet found the ground and the darkness swirled away faster than it'd creped in. We were on the boat. 

"What the hell just happened?" 

Apollo watched me for a moment, before slowly releasing my hand. "Repears and Charons, even with extraordinary powers, are human; are still alive. Only the dead can walk in the Stix and not be affected."

It took me a minute to realize what had happened. He’d just done that poof-thingy, and taken me along for the ride. I suppressed a shiver that wanted to shake it’s way down my spine. "Does every Charon have a demon to work with them?" 

He’d started to turn away from me, but paused. "I’m only half demon, and no, you’re the only Charon with that particular pleasure.” There was something about his voice that bothered me, something raw and painful that I wanted to ask him about, but it wasn’t right somehow. I chose a different question instead. 

“How do the other Charons get in the boat then?”

“They jump." Apollo finished the motion of turning away, keeping his focus on whatever held his attention in the mist. "We'll work on it. For now, we need to get the boat back to the main docks. Tap the end of your Scythe on the wood of the deck." 

I did so lighty, not wanting to damage my Scythe or the wood. The boat lurched forward, pulling itself free of the rocky shore and into the water slowly. We drifted in to the mist, the white fog surrounding us until I could barely see the front end of the boat. 

"Is it a long ride?" I asked Apollo in a hushed whisper. There was something about the fog and the darkness beyond it that gave me the chills. 

"It's a good distance, a few miles, at least." He glanced at my Scythe. "If you tap a little harder, the boat will move faster." 

The boat lurched forward with a little more enthusiasm after I did, and we rode the rest of the way in silence as the mist coated my bare arms and face in a damp layer of water. Apollo stayed alert but still for most of the trip across the river. Only as the docks appeared in the mists did he move and gather a thick rope into his hands with a practiced movement. 

I couldn’t help but feel the stillness in the air. There was something here that just sapped away my energy. Was this what Grandpa and Dad felt every time there came here? I was still upset with them for keeping this whole ‘family business’ from me, but I was starting to feel… I wasn’t sure how to put it. Amazed? Special? There wasn’t really a word for how I felt standing here thinking that my father and grandfather had stood just where I was now, doing exactly what I was doing now. 

Awe. That’s the word I was looking for. 

When the boat gently bumped the side of the dock, Apollo quickly jumped up and tied the rope to one of the posts. 

“Here we are,” Apollo said and motioned to the ticket gates that stood where the docks met the black sand of the beach. The spirits climbed out and on to the dock. Apollo offered me his hand after the last spirit had left the boat. My heart sped at the thought of holding his hand again and doubled as I reached for it, then it all but stopped as his skin touched mine. I couldn’t help but to remember the raw emotion in his voice only minutes ago. I braced myself for the swirling clouds to engulf me again, but instead, he pulled me up to the dock.

“Thanks,” I breathed, finding myself relieved and maybe a little disappointed that he hadn’t done what I’d expected him to. 

He gave me the briefest of smiles and released my hand before turning away to follow the spirits to the beach. I didn’t want to let go of his hand. There was something about him, something that kept me wanting to know more about him. 

Get a grip, Mary, I told myself. He’s from a whole different world. Literally.