I can’t help but agree with her. The silence here is…eerie. Unnatural. It makes my senses heighten and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Is it possible that Thea has reaped so many souls that the Underworld has no new arrivals? No…that can’t be true. She hasn’t reaped a soul—excluding the oracle—in days. There should be hundreds of thousands here.
“Stay close,” I warn the others, taking the lead.
Everett may be in charge of all things physical, but I know where my talents lie. Bartering? Making deals? That’s my domain.
As we approach the boat, Charon turns towards us, his eyes glowing an eerie shade of purple beneath his hood.
“You must pay the toll for admittance.” His voice is a deep, booming baritone, surprisingly youthful considering his frail appearance.
Charon considers us. His unnerving gaze jumps from face to face, lingering on Thea for a longer moment than necessary.
“One memory,” he decides on at last.
“No,” Rafe snarls.
“Absolutely fucking not!” exclaims Krystian.
“You may choose the memory,” Charon continues, ignoring my brothers’ outbursts. “But it must be important to you. The River will know if you lie.”
An important memory?
I swallow down the nail that got hammered down my throat.
I have an entire childhood of memories, and more from my time at the compound training—though those are few and far between, due to the deep sleep I was put in. The most importantmemories, however? The ones that took place over the last couple of days. I refuse to give any of those up.
“All right,” I agree for the group, ignoring the withering glares the guys throw my way.
Only Thea appears unperturbed, her hands fiddling with the bottom of Everett’s hoodie.
“I’m not doing it,” Rafe snaps.
“You are,” I counter easily. “For Thea, you are.”
I level him with a serious look, reminding him of everything we have at stake. Namely, her.
“You don’t have to,” Thea cuts in quickly. “I can go on my own.”
“Not fucking happening,” Everett snaps, scowling.
“It doesn’t have to be a current memory or even the most important one,” I tell the others. “Think of something from your past. A dinner with your family that made you feel safe. One of the times we played a board game during training.”
“The memory doesn’t have to be happy either,” Thea points out, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. “Sometimes the most important memories can be ones you want to forget.”
I wonder if she’s thinking of something in particular, and the thought causes my breath to hitch.
The guys all exchange solemn looks and then step forward.
“Perfect,” Charon says.
I can’t see his face, but I have the distinct impression he’s smiling beneath his hood.
He turns to me with a wrinkled finger extended. “Think of a memory, but be very, very careful. Whatever you think of is what I’ll steal.”
I nod to show him I understand and tune out the rest of the world. In my head, I envision our first battle after we awoke from our comatose states. The first man I ever killed.
Charon places his finger against my forehead, and his eyes glow with a strange, preternatural light, the color luminescent in the monochromatic world. He slowly pulls his finger away, and a tiny sliver of light follows, resembling a worm on a hook. He tosses the light into the River, where it disappears.
