Rivers of Hell (Shadows of the Immortals Book 3) Read online

  RIVERS OF HELL

  Marina Finlayson

  Copyright © 2017 Marina Finlayson

  www.marinafinlayson.com

  All rights reserved.

  The right of Marina Finlayson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Act 1968 (Cth).

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author.

  Cover design by Karri Klawiter

  Model stock image from Taria Reed/The Reed Files

  Editing by Larks & Katydids

  Formatting by Polgarus Studio

  Published by Finesse Solutions Pty Ltd

  2017/03/#01

  Author’s note: This book was written and produced in Australia and uses British/Australian spelling conventions, such as “colour” instead of “color”, and “-ise” endings instead of “-ize” on words like “realise”.

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  For my dear friends in the AC. You guys rock.

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

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  8

  9

  10

  11

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  15

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  ALSO BY MARINA FINLAYSON

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  1

  Soft grey light illuminated the dead as they filed off the ferry and tramped up the road toward the gate. The fake sunshine that lit the grounds of Hades’ palace didn’t shine here by the dark river. The rocks on which I sat were grey, the spindly grass at the side of the road was grey—even the dead themselves had a grey pallor to their skin that meant you could never have mistaken one of them for a living person. Everything was dull, misty, drained of colour. Welcome to the underworld, guys. Hope you like grey.

  One of Cerberus’s heads growled as a man in a business suit strayed from the path. Hurriedly, the man rejoined the stream of souls heading for the gate, and Cerberus laid his head back down on his massive paws. I’d followed him down here after another day roaming the palace on my own while Jake and Hades struggled with the problem of the collars. I leaned against the giant dog’s side, his body warm and alive against my back. His fur was black, like the waters of the Styx before us, which, at least, was a change from the ever-present grey. I felt like a parrot in my blue and green T-shirt.

  Of course, compared to that gate, my T-shirt was positively tame.

  Apparently, back in antiquity, the gate to the underworld had been made of diamond, but Hades had been renovating, and the diamond gate had been replaced by a giant laughing clown mouth, with bright red lips and mad, blue eyes sparkling above. The souls of the dead passed under his giant teeth to enter the afterlife. Was that supposed to make them feel more cheerful about what eternity had to offer? Because looking at the dull faces of the people passing before me, I’d have to say it wasn’t working.

  The ferry idling at the wharf was massive. Charon had obviously moved up in the world since the days of legend when he’d ferried the dead across the Styx in a rowboat. This thing towered above the wharf, as big as one of Crosston’s huge commuter ferries. The throb of powerful engines split the air and churned up the inky waters. At least the gate wasn’t the only thing Hades had modernised. Charon’s back probably appreciated it. He didn’t have to make so many trips, either, as the huge ferry obviously held a lot more passengers than a rowboat.

  Across the dark river, the other bank was lost in mist. Legend said that the souls who couldn’t afford to pay the ferryman lingered there for a hundred years before they could enter the underworld. Frankly, from what I’d seen of the underworld so far, they might not be missing out on much.

  I’d followed Cerberus here across the Plains of Asphodel. They’d stretched as far as the eye could see, a field of waving flowers in every direction, but distance was a funny thing down here. The laws of physics didn’t apply. We hadn’t been walking very long at all before the massive laughing gate appeared out of the murk, with the dark river beyond it. I had the feeling that I could have walked for days without ever reaching it, if I’d been one of the dead. Fortunately, I was still alive, one of the few living people ever to visit the underworld. Syl and Jake were here, too, as well as Apollo, but since he was a god, that probably wasn’t as impressive.

  Of course, I almost had joined the ranks of the dead. It had been a close call in that cellar, surrounded by shadow shapers bent on killing us. If Cerberus hadn’t turned up when he did, it would have been game over for all of us. Instead, we’d managed to send a few of them to meet the Lord of the Underworld all up close and personal, and I wouldn’t be shedding a single tear over any of them.

  I sighed, shifting a little on the rocky ground. I’d been sitting here for what felt like hours, peering into every grey face that passed, hoping to see one of the shadow shapers. I needed to find out what had happened to the key that unlocked the collars currently around my friends’ necks. Call me vindictive, but I was really hoping to see that bitch, Mrs Emery, joining the ranks of the dead, and so far I hadn’t got my wish.

  Could she have lived through the collapse of that enormous house? Or the firestorm that Jake had unleashed on her? Apparently, the answer was yes—at least, so far. Hades said a few of the shadow shapers had arrived not long after us, that first night, but none since then. Bruno had run as soon as Cerberus appeared, so he’d probably lived to tell the tale, but Adrian should have been well and truly smooshed under the collapsing mansion, as should Mrs Emery and the so-delightful Irene.

  Well, speak of the devil … I jumped up as a familiar figure stepped off the ferry. Finally! Irene wore a smart suit and high heels, but the confidence had gone out of her stride. She shuffled along in the line, as grey as the rest of the dead.

  She smoothed her hair back in a gesture I recognised. Irene had never met anyone she loved more than herself, and it showed, even in death. I strode down to the water’s edge to meet her.

  “Irene,” I said. “Nice to see you again.”

  A flicker of recognition appeared in her eyes, but she said nothing. Just stood waiting, staring at the grey rocks as if she didn’t care who I was or what I had to say. As if nothing mattered—which I guess, to her, it didn’t. None of the other shades paid us the slightest attention, intent on their slow march into the afterlife. I didn’t know how Hades could stand hanging out with this bunch. Their silence was starting to unnerve me. Maybe that was why he spent so much time topside pretending to be a vampire named Alberto.

  “So, how’s your boss? Still fighting fit? Or did we manage to crush her like the bug that she is?” Actually, that was an insult to bugs. “What did your friends do with the key to the collars?”

  She raised her head, her eyes glittering with malice. “Why should I tell you?”

  I shrugged and pulled out a knife, testing the blade against my finger.

  She laughed, sounding like the soundtrack to every scary movie I’d ever seen. The hairs on the back of my neck rose instinctively. Damn dead people were creepy-ass bastards. “Your knife is no threat. What are you going to do? Kill me a
gain?”

  Ah, if only, Irene. Some people really deserved killing twice.

  I feinted at her with the knife, and she leapt back, though the blade went straight through her raised hand.

  “Nah, I just wanted to see you jump.” I laughed at the vicious frustration on her face, one of those I’d strangle you with my bare hands—if only I had hands kind of looks. “But, you know, I’m kind of tight with the boss of this place. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll just drop a word in his ear. He can make your life hell. Literally.”

  Rage flashed across her face, and she lunged at me, hands outstretched to claw my face. I danced away, but not before her spectral fingers passed right through my head, sending an icy tremor through my skull. Cerberus appeared at my side, snarling, and she hurriedly stepped back into line.

  She glared at both of us for a moment, but her expression soon collapsed into the same apathy shown on every other grey face that passed us as the line moved inexorably onward. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Mrs Emery will defeat you in the end.”

  “So she’s going to live?” Damn, that was disappointing, even if it wasn’t entirely unexpected by this stage. Poor Irene must have lingered in hospital for a few days. It was too much to hope that Mrs Emery was in the same sad situation. She was like a cockroach, that one—hard to kill and liable to scuttle back into the light when you least expected it.

  Irene moved on, following the grey backs in front of her, and I let her go. If she knew anything useful, Hades would get it out of her. She wouldn’t be able to refuse the Lord of the Underworld.

  “You won’t get what you want by interrogating the dead,” a voice said behind me, and I jumped.

  She lounged half on the riverbank, half in the black water, and her hair was so long and black its wet strands looked like the river itself flowing from her head. Her skin was pale, but not the grey of the dead surrounding us—more like someone who didn’t spend any time soaking up the Vitamin D.

  “Won’t I?” I didn’t appreciate being sneaked up on like that. My heart was still pounding. “How do you know?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve been around this place a while.” She laughed, exposing a mouthful of pointed teeth like a shark’s. “I have some experience with dead people.”

  “Who are you?” I didn’t like the look of those teeth, but it was kind of hard not to stare. She looked like an emo cannibal. What was there to eat around here that required teeth like that? Casually, I glanced around for Cerberus. He was close by, still intent on the line of souls streaming into the underworld.

  “I’m Styx,” she said, “and this is my river.”

  Some kind of nymph, then. “It’s very … black,” I said, since she seemed to expect a response.

  “It’s coloured with the hate and fury of souls in torment,” she said, and the water swirled around her hips as if in agreement. Nice. I bet she was great fun at parties. Faces appeared in the water, all screaming mouths and bulging eyes, and in between them, hands that reached out toward me. I backed up a step or two, checking again that Cerberus was nice and handy.

  Behind him, two men appeared through the grinning gate, one tall and dark-haired, the other short and stocky: Jake and Hades. Hades pulled Irene out of the line and stayed by the gate, chatting to her, but Jake strode down the path toward me.

  “That’s a fine specimen of manhood,” Styx said, flicking her long hair over one shoulder.

  I wanted to shove her back into the river for saying it, but I had to agree. Jake smiled at me, a smile that lit his blue eyes with warmth, and then more warily at the water nymph.

  “What are you doing down here?” he asked.

  “Checking on the new arrivals,” I said. “Any progress yet?”

  I didn’t have to be specific; the collars were virtually the only thing any of us talked about—those of us who were still talking at all. Syl had become more and more withdrawn as time passed with no solution, and Apollo alternated between tantrums and sullen silences.

  His smile faded. “No change.”

  Styx leaned forward, thrusting her boobs at him. “Fancy a swim, gorgeous? You look like you could do with a break.”

  “No, thanks. The water looks a little dangerous for swimming.”

  “I’d take care of you, sweetheart.” She grinned, showing those horrifying teeth again. Maybe she meant to be alluring, but the effect was creepy as hell. I’d sooner snuggle up with a shark. “Wouldn’t let any harm come to a hair on your pretty little head. Of course, I might wear out a few other parts.”

  He took my hand in a firm grip and tugged me away from the riverbank. “Sorry. Maybe another time.” A hint of red bloomed in his cheeks and Styx chuckled as he hurried me back up the path.

  “You’re blushing,” I said. “That’s so cute.”

  “Wait until some monster is trying to crack on to you,” he muttered, once we were a safe distance away. “Let’s see who’s laughing then.”

  I glanced back. Styx was still watching him, a hungry gleam in her eyes that sent a chill down my spine. I was glad to join Hades at the gate and leave the pointy-toothed bitch behind.

  ***

  We walked back to Hades’ palace through the fields of flowers. They were white and delicate, and if there’d been some sunlight on the scene, it would have been very pretty. Instead, we moved through a constant twilight, and shadows flitted like bats through my peripheral vision, leaving me constantly on edge. I did not like feeling as if something was sneaking up on me.

  “What are those things?” I burst out finally, after one had swooped so close I’d automatically flinched away. Hades didn’t seem bothered by them, so I figured they weren’t dangerous, but they were still unnerving.

  “Souls of the dead,” Hades said. “They’re attracted to us because we’re alive—drawn to our vitality like moths to a flame.”

  That made it worse. I was being swarmed by dead people?

  “The souls getting off the ferry weren’t like this—they looked just like people.”

  “That’s because they’re newly dead. Some of these have been here for millennia, and they’ve faded.” He smiled at the look on my face. “Don’t worry, they’re perfectly harmless.”

  Unlike some of the other denizens of this place.

  “Did you get any info out of Irene’s shade?” I rubbed at my face, remembering the chilly sensation of her fingers passing through my head. “The bitch tried to attack me. Cerberus chased her off.”

  The giant dog was padding at my side, and I reached up to give his shoulder an affectionate pat. The nearest head bent and licked my hand.

  “No, she didn’t know anything. But you should be more careful. Someone like Irene couldn’t have hurt you, but there are plenty of others here—dead and alive—who could. It’s not wise to leave the palace grounds without either Cerberus or me.”

  I wiped my hand on my jeans. Cerberus’s odd affection for me usually seemed to involve me getting slobbered on. “Like Styx? Is she a nymph or a monster?”

  He laughed. “Maybe a bit of both? Actually, she’s a goddess. A daughter of the Titans, like many of us. Earned her place here instead of languishing in Tartarus because she kept her oath to support Zeus. Her word is her bond—though it always pays to check the fine print with her. She’d leave some of your human lawyers for dead as far as sneaky sub-clauses go. But she’s tame compared to some we have here. Monsters, heroes—and now even a few gods—mostly itching for a fight.”

  “The gods come here, too, when they die?” Jake asked. “That doesn’t seem right.”

  Hades cocked a grey eyebrow up at him. In this form, he was pretty short, and older looking than when he masqueraded as the vampire Alberto. If you saw him in the street, he wouldn’t rate a second glance. Maybe the ordinariness was meant as a comfort to the newly dead. Jake, striding at his side, looked far more godlike, with his height and his striking good looks, but there was an air of deference in his attitude to the shorter man. Jake had be
lieved in the gods for a lot longer than I had. Actually talking with them and interacting with them on such a personal level like this must be surreal for him.

  “Where else should they go?” Hades asked. “Dead is dead.”

  “So Hephaistos is here now?”

  Ah. Smart boy. Now I saw where he was going with this. We had planned to visit Hephaistos’s forge, in an effort to find some way to break these damned collars, but the location of the forge was a secret apparently only known to the god himself.

  “We could ask him where his forge is.” I grinned at Jake. Good looks and brains, too—the complete package.

  “We might not even need to. He might be able to help us himself. He’s the greatest smith who ever lived.”

  “The key word in that sentence being ‘lived’,” Hades said. “Being dead will certainly limit how much help he can offer. But I have to warn you, he’s not adjusting well to his new situation. He may not be at all cooperative.”

  “He’s been dead for a year, hasn’t he?” I asked.

  “A year isn’t a long time when you’ve lived for millennia,” Hades pointed out. “Particularly when you never expected to die at all. It’s a bit of a shock. I’ve tried to make him comfortable. The gods have a special section of Elysium, and of course they’re welcome to visit in my palace, too, but it’s not the same.”

  “Can we go to see him?” Hades seemed unnecessarily negative. Surely Hephaistos would want to help us find a way to defeat the power of the collars. Without them, the shadow shapers would have a hard time controlling the gods they captured. Didn’t he want to bring down the people who had killed him? I sure as hell would, in his place.

  A light appeared on the horizon, like the sun peeking over the rim of the world. But it wasn’t the sun, only the glow of the palace grounds, which were somehow lit with fake sunlight during the “day”. Whatever day was, in an underworld that never saw the sun and probably didn’t even exist in the same physical plane as the daylight world. I tried not to think too much about it, because it made my head spin. Just write it off as “magic” and leave it at that.