Acheron Highway: A Jonathan Shade Novel Read online

  “Too late.”

  He pounded down a fourth and popped open a fifth.

  “Dude,” I said. “At least save me one.”

  “Come take it from me.” He held up the sixth bottle by the neck and ticked it back and forth.

  “Forget it. I’ll buy more.” I sat down on the sofa.

  “Fine. You can have the last one,” he said, “if you answer a few questions for me.”

  He walked over, plopped on the couch beside me, and put an arm around my shoulder. He kept the beer in his fist but held it so I could reach for it. I didn’t bother because I knew he wouldn’t let go unless he got his answers first.

  “I’ve already told you I can’t get you a grenade launcher.”

  “My questions are about Kelly. Here, take the beer.”

  I didn’t.

  “Come on, Jonathan. I’m trying to do what she told me. Take the brewski.”

  I hesitated then reached up and took hold of the beer. He held on for a second, then grinned and let go.

  “Questions about Kelly,” I said. “This should be fun.”

  “Want me to open that for you?”

  “Could you give me some space?”

  “I make you uncomfortable?”

  “You having your arm around me seems a bit—”

  “Gay?”

  “Dangerous.”

  “Still afraid I’ll rip your head off?”

  “The thought has crossed my mind.”

  “Mine too, truth to tell.” He laughed then turned serious. “But if I did, Kelly would kill me.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Let me get that for you.” He popped the cap off the Corona for me. “Let’s have a toast.” He held out his beer bottle. “To women, even though every damn one of them is bat-shit crazy.”

  “To women.” I tapped my bottle to his and took a drink. “They only seem crazy.”

  “Says the guy who hasn’t been laid in months.”

  “You and Kelly hit a rough patch?”

  Brand took his arm away and stood up. He slammed the rest of his beer and took the bottle to the kitchen counter. When he came back, he didn’t say anything for a time.

  I waited.

  I could tell it bothered him to come to me for advice. He knew I didn’t like that he and Kelly were dating. Sleeping with the enemy just didn’t make sense to me. Kelly insisted he wasn’t the enemy anymore. In my opinion, his allegiance had shifted so fast, I knew it could happen again. He might be friendly today, but tomorrow he might try to kill me. I didn’t like him. Esther despised him. I have no clue how Kelly felt about him. She never talked about that.

  “I think,” he said then stopped. His eyes darted back and forth as if searching for the right words hanging in the air. He sighed and looked over at me. “I think she’s getting tired of me.”

  Good, I thought. But I said, “What makes you think that?”

  “Last night in bed—”

  “Stop,” I said. “I don’t want to hear about your sexual exploits.”

  “You don’t seem like a prude.”

  “I’m not but Kelly’s my friend.”

  He nodded. “I respect that. This isn’t about sex, though.”

  “OK, go on.”

  “We were getting ready to go to sleep. Anyway, I told her I love her. It’s the first time I ever said that.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said, ‘hmm.’ That’s it. Just ‘hmm.’ Then she went to sleep. This morning she didn’t say anything, but I could tell she looked at me different. We’ve been together for six months. Did I say it too soon? Too late? What?”

  “Did you expect her to go all mushy on you?”

  “No.”

  “Good because that’s not Kelly.”

  “I did expect her to say something, though.”

  “Maybe she’s processing it.”

  “I wish I could take it back. I feel like maybe this was a test and I failed.”

  “A test?”

  “More of a challenge. I don’t know. I get the impression she thinks less of me now. It’s like I gave her power over me, made myself weak in front of her, and now she doesn’t respect me.”

  “Being in love means you do give away some power and you open yourself up to your partner in ways you never thought you would or could.”

  “I don’t like feeling weak.”

  “Then you’re with the wrong woman.”

  “What?”

  “Come on, Brand. You know how easily you could kill me? That’s how easily Kelly can kill you.”

  “I sense that but I don’t understand it. We’re both Sekutar.”

  “True,” I said but Kelly was first generation and Brand was second generation, which was an inferior race. The wizards who created them had a great deal of trouble killing the first batch, so when they created another round, they built in a few weaknesses. They weren’t obvious but they were there. Kelly figured it out from sparring with Brand.

  “She’s older,” he said. “More experienced. That must be it.”

  “Probably.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “You’re asking me?”

  He shrugged. “You know her better than I do.”

  “Maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe you need to get to know her.”

  “I thought I did.”

  “Go deeper.”

  “I’m thinking she might be done with me.”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  “How do you know?”

  I gave him a grin. “Because you’re still breathing.”

  “So how do I get closer to her?”

  “Take an interest in what she does.”

  “Teaching weak women to fight back? They should have learned that before their men beat them up or they should have left sooner or something.”

  “Not really understanding the whole ‘take an interest’ thing, are you?”

  “Why bother teaching them? They’re just going to go back and get beat up again or killed. It’s a waste of time.”

  “Or maybe by teaching them, Kelly is helping to build their confidence so they can build a better life without abusers.”

  “Huh,” Brand said and furrowed his brow as he rolled that concept around in his excuse for a mind.

  “You’ve been with Kelly for half a year, so you had to have seen changes in the women she teaches.”

  “I don’t pay attention to them.”

  “You don’t help with the classes?”

  “Kelly won’t let me spar with anyone but you.”

  “You don’t have to spar with them. You could help teach them techniques or let them punch and kick you so they know what it’s like to hit someone.”

  “If one of them hit me, I’d put her through the wall, and then Kelly would probably kill me.”

  “Dude, you don’t feel pain.”

  “That doesn’t mean I should let someone hit me without paying a price for it.”

  “Don’t you think they’ve already paid?”

  “To hit me? Ha!”

  “In that case, maybe you should pack your bags and move on.”

  “You’d like that.”

  “You’re not as stupid as I thought.”

  “I’m allowed to hit you, Shade.”

  I glanced at the clock. “This has been educational, but I have a meeting to get to in Highlands Ranch, so it’s time for you to go.”

  “You need to tell me another way to get closer to Kelly first.”

  “No, I really don’t.”

  “I’m not anybody’s punching bag,” Brand said.

  “Whatever.”

  “I have too much respect for myself to allow that.”

  “And that’s sort of the point. You have too much respect for yourself, and the women Kelly teaches don’t have enough. But if you can’t spare any, I guess you’ll be respecting yourself all alone very soon.”

  “Fuck you, Shade.”

  “You’re not my
type.”

  “See you tomorrow. Get ready for some pain.”

  “I might not make the practice. I’m working a case.”

  “But we’re going to work with katars.”

  A katar is a wicked punching dagger favored by the Thuggee cult of India. It has a transverse grip so the blade works as an extension of your forearm. As such, it’s perfect for punching the way a boxer does, but not so good for much else. You have to be up close and personal with your target to use such a weapon.

  “Too much to do,” I said, though the katars were tempting.

  “Anyone I can kill for you?”

  “Oh, so now you want to work for me?”

  “If there’s killing involved, you won’t even have to pay me.” The thought of killing made his face light up. It was a little creepy.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Now go home.”

  He finally left and when I closed the door, I shook my head. What did Kelly see in that guy?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Before I could get back to my beer, another knock sounded on the door. Damn that Brand. He must have forgotten something. I didn’t care that he was a Sekutar; I’d had enough of him. I yanked the door open.

  “What the hell do you—?” I stopped short. It wasn’t Brand.

  Standing before me was perhaps the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Her dark hair had that naturally windblown look, and her face belonged in a painting on a museum wall. Her eyes held a twinkle of amusement and shone with an intelligence that could be gained only by life experience.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said. “I thought you were someone else.”

  She gave me a smile that lit up the world. Perfect teeth, lips that… Oh wait, she was talking.

  “The rather large gentleman is gone, Mr. Shade. May I have a word?”

  “Uh, sure?”

  “It’s a little chilly out here.” Her jacket looked thin as if she’d expected the temperature to be in the fifties instead of the twenties.

  “Yeah. Come on in.”

  When I stepped back, she flowed into the room like a goddess. Her eyes swept my place, and I found myself wanting to tell her all the beer bottles weren’t mine. She didn’t comment on the lack of furniture.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked.

  She turned and met my gaze. “I’d like you to find someone for me, Mr. Shade.”

  “I’m good at missing persons cases.” I found myself wanting to please her. Yes, she was drop-dead gorgeous, but what I was feeling wasn’t a sexual thing but rather a case of really wanting her approval. My impression, silly as it sounds, was that if she accepted me, all would be right with the world. Looking at her, I actually felt alive for the first time in months.

  “This one will be especially easy for you because you already know where she is.”

  “Does she have a name?”

  “Charon. I believe you know her as Sharon.”

  That snapped me out of seeking-approval mode. I considered pulling the old “Who is Sharon?” or “What makes you think someone from Greek mythology is real?” but something about her demeanor told me not to go there. “You have me at a slight disadvantage. You know who I am, but I don’t know you.”

  “My name is Persephone.”

  Focus. I concentrated to slow my heart down. Most people hear the name Persephone, and they struggle to recall their mythology classes, which would not tell them the truth about her. I needed to tread carefully. Persephone hadn’t flowed in like a goddess; she actually was a goddess. I wondered when she’d last spoken to a living, mortal human. “You’re wrong.”

  She looked at me for a moment. Then her lips curled into a smile. “As I don’t think you’re doubting my identity, perhaps you can clarify your statement.”

  “I have no clue where Sharon is at the moment. I haven’t seen her in months.”

  “But she came to visit you this afternoon.”

  “Are you keeping tabs on me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know she stepped through a rift to get here. We spoke and she opened a rift and left. She could have gone anywhere. She didn’t say where, and I didn’t ask.”

  She kept the soft smile and nodded. “You’re a loyal friend.”

  “I try.”

  “That’s admirable.”

  “But it’s going to get me killed, right?”

  “I’ll grant you that your life and the lives of other mortals really don’t matter that much, but I’m not in a habit of simply killing people. Do you go into people’s houses and kill their dogs?”

  “I like dogs.”

  “So do I.”

  “And people are like dogs to you?”

  She laughed. “People are like people to me. I have a fondness for them. I lived among them for years and still sometimes visit with them.”

  I doubted that last bit but then reminded myself that time operates differently in the Underworld, so maybe to her it seemed like she visited occasionally, though it had probably been centuries since she’d set foot in our dimension.

  “In any case,” she said, “I don’t want to kill anybody unless it’s absolutely necessary, so you need not fear me provided you do as I request. I simply seek your assistance.”

  “So you can bring Sharon to justice or enslave her in the Underworld?”

  She shook her head. “There’s an old storytelling method that began eons ago and still has favor in your moving picture shows and books. Simplified, it’s Girl Meets Boy, Girl Loses Boy, Girl Gets Boy. We are closing in on the Girl Gets Boy aspect of the story. I’ve loved Charon for centuries. He wanted to see your world, and I understand that, but I miss him.”

  “He’s a she now.”

  “That doesn’t alter how I feel.”

  “Playing Little Miss Lonely-Hearts doesn’t change anything. I still don’t know where she is, and I’m not going to find her and send her back to you. She doesn’t want to be with you. Let her go. Find someone else.”

  “There is no one else.”

  “Maybe someday there will be.”

  She shook her head. “It isn’t often that I ask a human for assistance, Mr. Shade.”

  “It’s nice of you to make a house call, and I’m honored that you’d deign to speak with me. I just can’t help you. If Sharon wants to come back, she will.”

  “I’d like to speak with him…her. I’m not going to take no for an answer. I’ll keep sending ambassadors your way. They won’t be as kind. I hope you don’t force this to another level.”

  “You make it sound like a challenge. Some new video game.”

  She frowned and the room seemed to darken with her mood. “I could destroy you with the snap of my fingers. Do you want a demonstration?”

  “Not really. I believe you.” And I did. I knew she had some serious mojo to leave the Underworld. Then again, if she killed me, she might be doing me a favor.

  She drew a deep breath and nodded. “Next time you speak with Charon, please tell him I just want to talk.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Thank you. I respect your loyalty, Mr. Shade. I really do. I’m not looking to do him harm of any kind. I’ll admit I’m a little upset that he left, but I can forgive him. Your world is definitely interesting.”

  “A little too interesting sometimes.”

  “Just so you understand me, I’m leaving now, but I will be back. I’m not someone who will accept no for an answer. You will help me. It’s inevitable. I hope you choose to say yes sooner rather than later.” She started toward the door then stopped and leaned close to me. I could smell an earthy fragrance on her skin that sent a wave of energy through me. With her lips an inch from my left ear, she whispered, “Sooner would be more pleasant for all of us.”

  She left my apartment and I sat down on the sofa for a moment. There was an implicit threat woven into her final words, but it was tinged with regret and a hope that it wouldn’t come to that. The last place I wanted to stand was in between a lovesick go
ddess and her ex-lover.

  #

  Walter answered the door before I could ring the bell.

  “Punctual” he said. “I like that.” He turned and called into the house. “Ryan? Don’t be late for work!”

  “Whatever,” Ryan yelled back.

  Walter stepped outside and tugged on a jacket. The temperature had slipped down to the low twenties.

  “We going somewhere?” I asked.

  “You’re buying me a drink.”

  “Amazing how that works.” After speaking with Persephone, I decided I needed a drink. Hell, I needed several.

  He led the way to my car. I unlocked the doors, and he hopped inside. When I climbed in, he motioned for me to make a U-turn.

  “Head down to Quebec and hang a left. We’ll go to Lodo’s.”

  I knew the place. Lodo’s was located at C-470 and Quebec and was an OK place to meet singles. It was a nice enough bar, and the clientele trended toward the upper twenties to mid-thirties. While I fit in fine on the upper end of that scale, Walter was pushing eighty. While most of the girls who frequented the place had fantasies of hooking up with four-hundred-year-old vampires, their creep-out meter would peg at the thought of being with an eighty-year-old man. Part of that might be that the vampires didn’t exist, but dirty old men were a dime a dozen and nobody had shot the guy supplying the dimes. The other part was that the vampires in these women’s fantasies might be centuries old, but they never looked a day over thirty.

  When we entered the bar, a few heads turned, but when they saw Walter, the people went right back to whatever conversations they were having without missing a beat. We grabbed a table off to the side, and a cute waitress approached.

  “What can I get you?” she asked.

  “I’ll take a beer,” I said.

  “What kind?”

  “Surprise me.”

  She gave me a wry grin. “You got it.” She turned to Walter. “And for you, sir?”

  Walter leaned back and gave her a once-over. “Are you single?” he asked.

  I cringed inside.

  She held up her left hand and revealed a ring. “What would you like to drink, sir?”

  “I wasn’t asking for me,” he said.

  “It’s all right, sir. A drink?”

  “A martini. Extra olives.”

  “Coming right up.”