I roll my eyes. “That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”
Race grabs my hand tightly and I drag him through the tunnel, Jareth following close behind. The place is cave-dark and I can’t even see my hand in front of my face, never mind Prim’s movements some ways ahead. But finally, after what seems an eternity, there’s a pinprick of red light in front of me. I press forward, relieved as the light grows larger and larger and the narrow tunnel eventually opens up into a gigantic red-rock cavern.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I straighten back up and take a look around. The place resembles some kind of demented theme- park attraction, with hundreds of people hanging out at the shores of a bloodred river. A long ferryboat sits at a rickety dock, waiting to take on passengers. It’s manned by a tall, attractive looking older gentleman, dressed in a snappy three-piece suit.
“There he is,” Prim exclaims. “Charon the Ferryman.”
“That’s Charon?” I question, raising an eyebrow. “I thought he was supposed to be a skeleton or something.” I mean, I’m no expert in ancient mythology, but I did totally kick the ferryman’s ass in the God of War video game. “And where’s his oar?”
Prim smirks. “It’s a wonder what they can do with reconstructive surgery these days, isn’t it?” he asks. “A quick wellness retreat to Russia a few years back and he’s good as new.” He pauses, then adds, “And as for the oar, this is the twenty-first century, not ancient Greece. Back in the nineties he retrofitted that ferry with a sweet Marine Tech Navigator. Lazy bastard didn’t like all that rowing.”
Huh. I take another look at the ancient ferryboat. Sure enough, there’s a sleek black motor attached to the back. Well, what do you know?
“Is that the line?” Race interjects, glancing at his watch. “If all those people are ahead of us, there’s no way we’re crossing tonight.”
“Oh, no, no,” Prim says, dismissing the crowd with a wave of his hand. “Those are all the people who can’t pay.” He shakes his head. “It gets worse every year, let me tell you. It’s like no one remembers to bury their loved ones with the appropriate ferry fare anymore.”
I scan the crowd of fairies and vampires and other otherworld creatures, all milling about, looking quite miserable. “So what happens to them?” I ask.
“They hang out on the shores for a hundred years,” Prim explains. “If they can make it that long, then they’re eligible for a free ride.”
“Man, that’s rough. Maybe the guy should consider putting out a Groupon once a decade or something,” I say. “Give people a freaking break.”
We head down the hill, toward the dock. The Ferryman looks over, taking one look at Prim and shaking his head. “Well, well, look what the imp dragged in,” he says in a deep, grating voice. “Slumming it, are we?”
“Great to see you, too, Char,” Prim says stiffly, looking a little offended.
“I expected to see your brother tonight. He e-mailed me about an hour ago, saying he was on his way with a whole boatload of German tourists.”
Prim rolls his eyes. “Well, you know Grim. He’s probably gotten wasted on Weizenbier and lost track of time. I’ve told them a hundred times not to assign him to the Berlin borough. He can’t resist the beer and bratwurst.”
“Of course.” Charon groans. “And he’ll show up here drunk and gassy, seconds before I’m ready to close up for the night, as always.”
“Sounds about right.”
“So what are you doing here again?” the ferryman asks. “And who are these people? I thought we had a long talk about giving Hell tours to the living after you showed up last time with that girl you were trying to hook up with.”
“Well, technically we’re not living,” I point out. “We’re undead.”
Charon sniffs. “If you haven’t been staked, burned, or decapitated, then you’re classified as living beings down here. That’s just the way of it.”
“And how do you know we haven’t?”
He gestures to the people at the shore. “No purple haze.”
I follow his finger and take a closer look at the nearby dead. Sure enough, each of them has a weird purplish glow around them and they’re also a bit see-through. Kind of like what you’d imagine for a ghost. I guess he’s right. We don’t exactly blend.
“Okay, okay, admittedly the last time was weak,” Prim protests. “But this time we have serious business with the big guy downstairs. This girl’s sister here was unjustly murdered and she wants to beg for her soul.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.” Charon grunts derisively. “But whatever. Not my business anyway. As always, if you’ve got the coin, I’ve got the transport.” He holds out his hand, palm up, in my direction.
Prim turns to me. “Okay, Rayne, pay the guy.”
I stare at him in confusion. “Wait, what?”
“A ride across Styx isn’t free. Pay him.”
“But you didn’t tell me I needed money.” I reach into my pockets, already knowing they’re empty. I spent my last few bucks back in New York.
“Of course I did,” Prim huffs. “Are you saying I don’t know how to do my job?”
“Race? Jareth?” I ask, turning to the other vampires, praying they’re more financially responsible than me.