Charon.
I don’t know why I’d always been afraid of the mythological figure. I’d had a nightmare as a child, that I’d been wandering the river Styx and had fallen into the water. Charon had rescued me. And then he’d told me he hadn’t saved me, that I was dead, and he’d taken everyone I loved away from me. Death. Charon would later symbolize death. When I’d woken, it had taken me a long time to shake off that kind of fear. I didn’t know if I ever had. Even now, as an adult, I still feared that nightmare.
An emotionless chill seeped from his empty eye sockets. He would come for me. He would come for everyone I loved.
I tried to scream, but the fear wouldn’t let me. I managed a gasp, which I must’ve made outside the dream because the spell began to fade. I tried to hold on, but the magic pulled me away as if I’d been sucked into a whirlpool.
Jeremiah’s fingers tightened. “Olive?” His eyes grew wide as I faded. “Olive!”
I tried to hold on. The world spun around me. Jeremiah’s hand broke free from mine.
“Don’t leave me!”
I tried to scream that I would be back, but the fear held me. It wouldn’t relent. Jeremiah’s screams echoed in my ears, and the paralyzing terror stayed with me as I woke.
I couldn’t move, even as my godson’s bedroom came into focus. My hand was still pressed to his forehead. I concentrated on breathing, and the fear retreated a tiny bit, giving me the strength to move my hand. A clammy sweat covered my body, so I took deep, calming breaths.
That kind of fear was something I’d never experienced. When people say paralyzed with fear, it’s not just a euphemism. It’s a real thing.
Jeremiah was still in that place. I couldn’t stand being there for five minutes, and he was still in there. The thought almost drove me mad. Pressing my eyes closed, I listened to the drumbeat of my heart echo through my ears. I couldn’t help him as long as I fixated on his fears—or on mine—so I concentrated on the one thing I had control over.
I would get him out. I had no idea how, but I would get him out.
Chapter 5
Two days later, after poring over every book in my apartment, I hadn’t gotten any closer to solving Jeremiah’s problem. I felt as if Death stood over my shoulder, prodding me, mocking. I knew a human body couldn’t survive dark magic for an extended time. Death would have him if I didn’t find a cure soon.
Finally, I came up with a simple sleep spell to ward off nightmares. I knew it couldn’t overpower the dark magic by a long shot, but after administering the spell, I watched Jeremiah’s eyes stop twitching. His face seemed more at rest. At least, I imagined it did.
Sitting on my bar stool at home, I mindlessly chewed a mouthful of omelet. My eyes were glued to an old Faythander text called When Death Cometh, by LM Peerling, but I felt as if I hadn’t learned much. You lived, you died. Not earth-shattering revelations.
I scanned the back page.
Continued in the next volume, When Dreams Cometh, Peerling explores the realms of the human psyche and the power locked inside.
That was the book I needed. Only one problem—it had been out of print for more than a hundred years, and in Faythander, finding a book that old was nearly impossible.
I jumped when my phone rang, blaring “White and Nerdy” by Weird Al Yankovic from the speakers—my boyfriend Brent’s ringtone. The faux-rap gave me an endless source of amusement. Brent hated it.
I grabbed my phone and answered it. “Hey,” I said.
“You sound like crap.”
“Thanks.” Brent was all about compliments.
“You coming today or what?”
“Where to?”
Brent sighed. I knew I must drive him crazy. I never called, I always forgot anniversaries, and I never bought him a birthday present—not even a card. I’m not sure why he put up with me. In my defense, we never celebrated those things in Faythander.
“Lunch with your mom. It’s today.”
Today?
“Please tell me you didn’t forget.”
“No, I’m coming.” I closed my book, but I didn’t want to go anywhere. I wanted to stay in my apartment until I figured out what to do with Jeremiah. Rubbing my eyes, I realized I could use some fresh air after several days with little sleep and my head brimming with too much information.
“I’ll come pick you up. I know what your car is like,” Brent said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That POS? Look, just get showered. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“I’m insulted, you know.”
“No, you aren’t. See you at ten.” He hung up.
Han Solo bounded next to me and sniffed my half-eaten omelet. Fluffy, gray fur tickled my nose as he brushed past. He purred and sat in front of me, nudging my hand, demanding attention.
“What am I doing, Han? I spent half my life in Faythander, but I don’t know a thing about dark magic. How can I help Jeremiah if I don’t even know where to start?”
He mewled. If he were giving advice, I couldn’t understand a bit of it. Maybe he was telling me to take it easy, not to be so hard on myself.
Albert Einstein spoke up. He agreed with the cat.
“Dessert is in the fridge. Crème brûlée and bananas Foster. I know it’s a bit much for lunch. I hope you don’t mind,” Mom said.
We sat at the immaculate dining room table. The place settings, the food, the entire house looked like a picture
