As he followed Skyla across Tartarus, they stayed to the shadows as much as possible but found it impossible in places. They passed rivers of lava where souls were being thrown into the boiling streams, racks where souls were stretched and tortured with instruments that ranged from knives to scythes to chains. Everywhere, pain and torment rang out around them but none paid them any mind. They were allowed to pass as if they were invisible. Which just seemed…wrong.
As they walked by a particularly gruesome scene—a soul staked to the ground, being devoured by dogs—Skyla covered her mouth and looked away. “How does he decide who suffers what atrocity?”
“It’s different for each soul.”
Skyla turned his way. His feet stopped. Again that sense of déjà vu washed through him, the one that had grown stronger the deeper they’d delved into the Underworld. “I don’t know how I know that. I just do. At judgment, Hades determines what punishments fit the perpetrator and he sets them up on a cyclical pattern. A day of each until the soul is killed, only to suffer through a new scenario the next day.”
“That’s awful,” Skyla whispered.
It was. Horrendous. To know that day after day you’d be tortured until you died in different yet equally heinous ways, only to awaken and do it all again. An endless repetition of life, torture, and death.
Skyla slid her hand into his and tugged. “Come on.”
He focused on her familiar amethyst eyes. Eyes that also brought a sense of déjà vu. Eyes he knew he’d looked into long before that day at the concert. “Skyla…”
“Yes?”
His chest filled again with that warmth only she could bring. “I…” Why do I feel like I know you? What is this weird connection we have? But he knew she wouldn’t answer his questions. He’d tried that before. Maybe he should just stop questioning and be thankful she was here with him. To be in this place alone…
A shiver ran down his spine even in the blistering heat.
He shook off the thought and stepped toward her. “Yeah, let’s go.”
They walked another few hours until the barren ground shifted to wet, seeping marshes where all five rivers of the Underworld converged in a murky, bubbling, swampy mire. Souls could be seen floating amidst the muck, struggling to break free, but the surface was as impenetrable as glass, and the muffled screams echoed in the air.
Please don’t let Gryphon be down there.
Orpheus had no idea how they’d get him out if he was.
A shout echoed to their left. On instinct, Orpheus pushed Skyla behind him and turned that way. She grunted and stepped free of his protection, then reached for her bow.
The voice grew stronger, and then a body came into view. A real body, not a soul like every other person they’d encountered. How Orpheus knew that he couldn’t be sure. The souls looked real down here, but there was something about them that struck him as not complete.
The man, being, whatever, stepped out of the scraggly trees and stopped a few feet from them. He was dressed all in white, with dark hair, and two scars that ran down his cheeks. But he was definitely real. And very, very familiar. “You seek the Argonaut’s soul.”
Orpheus slanted Skyla a look. She had her bow up and ready to strike. “How do you know what we’re here for?”
“Souls have ears,” the male answered. “And secrets waft on the wind.” His voice lowered. “Do not be so na?ve as to think you were anything but allowed to venture this far amongst the dead. The Argonaut you seek is not among the Cursed Marshes. He’s on the plains, over the ridge to the west.”
Orpheus’s gaze followed the sweep of the male’s hand. “Why are you telling us this?”
The male stepped closer. “Because I’ve been told to.” He slid a small teardrop-shaped vial of liquid into Orpheus’s hand and whispered, “Even here, in the land of the forgotten, hope remains. Watch for the unexpected. They’ll strike when you think you are free.”
He turned and headed back the way he’d come.
“Hey!”
The man stopped. Glanced over his shoulder.
“Do I know you?” Orpheus asked.
“You did. Once.”
Why that left Orpheus more uneasy than the fact this guy had approached them, he didn’t know. He raised the vial. “What’s in here?”
“Ambrosia. It has the opposite effect in the Underworld.” The man turned and headed back into the mist.
“What do you think that was about?” Skyla asked.
Orpheus didn’t know, but as he watched the male disappear, another shot of déjà vu whipped through him. “I think it means we need to watch our backs.”
“Do we search the marshes or trust him?”
If Gryphon were here, it would take days, weeks, to find him. There were so many lying trapped in the shadows of the tall reeds. “What do you think?”
“It’s your call.”
Yeah. His call. His mistake to make, too. Only one of many he’d made during his lifetime.
He didn’t know why, but that déjà vu said to trust the man. He slid the vial into his pocket. “We head for the plains to the west.”