Page 92 of The Games Gods Play
I catch only the barest glimpse from where I am, but that’s all I need to know why Hades doesn’t live with the other gods. Why he prefers to stay here.
“It’s so…” I can’t find the right word. “Why did Persephone hate it here?”
“She didn’t.”
I whip around to find a man standing at my feet and have to tip my head back to see all of him.
This can’t be Charon. Can it?
He’s…really hot.
I mean, not like Hades. But this being who is described as all things hideous is anything but. Tall and lean, he has sandy-brown hair that looks almost blond against fawn-colored skin and laughing eyes somewhere between blue and green. He’s not the brooding kind of handsome I’d expect, given the “Ferryman of the Dead” title and all. Instead, he comes off as…approachable…with kind eyes and the type of open face that invites you to grab a beer and have a chat.
He tips his head with a warm smile that makes me want to smile back. “I’ve been curious about you, Lyra Keres.”
“Um…same.” I shake the hand he offers, but I can’t make myself get to my feet. I’m still too wiped from my bodysurfing experience.
He must see that, because he drops down to sit by me, resting his wrists on his raised knees. Which is when I notice that he’s wearing jeans like Hades does. Jeans and a light-green boatneck button-down that’s otherwise plain.
“I have a feeling Hades will be here soon to fetch you,” he says.
“I doubt that. He has no idea I fell in that damn waterfall to begin with.”
Charon’s lips pull into a big grin. “Cerberus told me about that.”
“He—” I turn to look up at the hound. “When?”
“Just now.”
I turn back to find the ferryman studying me with open interest. “I can see what he sees in you.”
“Sorry?”
“Hades. You’re fearless in a way he would…admire.”
I lean back slightly. “It’s not fearlessness. It’s poor judgment and an appalling lack of filter.” And a lifetime of getting through it on my own. “And judging by how much he yells at me about those particular traits, I’m not sure you know Hades as well as you think you do.”
Charon laughs. “I do. Since I don’t have much time, I need to tell you a few things quickly. Okay?”
Seriously? “How could a person with any sense of curiosity refuse an offer like that?” I prop my elbows on my knees.
His eyes twinkle. “First, a question. Why didn’t you use one of the pearls when you were in the river?”
It takes effort to maintain a neutral expression. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Persephone’s pomegranate seeds.” He cuts me off like he doesn’t have time for a game of who knows what and is willing to admit it. “Hades can’t tell you about them because it’s interfering, but I’m not restricted by that, since I’m not an Olympian god.”
I stop trying to pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. “They’re in my vest, and I was busy drowning.”
His expression is that of a disappointed schoolteacher. “Don’t make that mistake again. They will take you anywhere you want to go.”
I blink. “I thought they’d only bring me here?”
Charon shakes his head. “Picture the destination clearly in your mind—a place or a person, either will do—then swallow one pearl.”
Could I use them to go back to the Overworld? Not that there’s anywhere I could hide there.
“Use them only if you have no other option,” Charon warns, like he could read my thoughts. “You’re already in trouble with relics.”
