CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Russell:
The orange light faded. In its place, dark water rolled over the horizon, poured into my lungs, black and brackish, pulling me down in a fierce undertow. A subsurface river crashed me against the rocks, thrashed me along the spiny ocean bottom until my chest ached. I fell limp and weary, wondered if in some other world I was still alive, still struggling to breathe.
Pain shot through my chest, white-hot fire and smoke. I arched my back; like a fish I flew out of the water, gasped a mouthful of air, then submerged again. Another shock wave jolted through my torso, my eyes flew open and I had a vision of the world the way it was before.
Isabelle laughing, hair in silken ringlets.
Marguerite dancing, red dress and silver earrings.
Dark water and a funeral barge, fire burning at the edges, me floating down the River Styx. I was breathing now, I think, but I was alone between worlds, heading for Hades.
Water lapping the sides of the boat, so close to immortality, if I could dip my hand over the side I would live forevera€”
Immortality. The dream that never belonged to me.
Voices. A multitude of whispering voices called me from rocky shores. Chaz. My mother. My father. They had questions for me and I tried to call back, but my throat was raw from that black, burning water. Still, my mouth moved and words came out, the dead speaking to the living, a s??ance that linked me one last time with the world of light.
All the while, the River Styx patiently lapped at the edge of my boat. Waiting for me to die.
If only I could dip my hand in the water.