Till Death Do Us Part: A Paranormal Why Choose Romance (Vows Duet Book 1)

Chapter 39

Chapter 39

2,725 Years Ago

Mead sours my breath and I am so disgusted by it I want to vomit my belly full of it up.

Curious passersby stare until they realize they’ve been caught, scurrying away with their companions and whispers on their lips. I know what they’ve been saying; have heard the words uttered by gossipmongers who don’t realize I’m near.

“It’s disgraceful, how Orpheus has fallen apart over a nymph he knew for only a fortnight.”

“He drinks mead all day long, so he cannot remember how he let the poor girl die.”

“Poor Orpheus. It is such a sad thing, what happened to his wife. You know she threw herself into a pit of vipers to escape him, yes?”

How the people talk and make up tales to satisfy the curiosity of their simple minds hardly affects me, for I cannot hear them over the accusations that come from my own mind. I think through what happened, over and over again, self-flagellating with the truth nobody else will know. If I had only listened to my beloved’s concerns, I would still have her with me. It is my fault she is dead.

The rough texture of the blocks, which make up the wall of the tavern I have been frequenting, scrape my skin through the sloppily wrapped tunic as I shift to find a more comfortable position. My ass clenches with an ache from sitting on the stone paved ground for far too long, but I endure it. I relish in the way I can still feel after having my soul snatched away from me.

The only thing I can do now is mournfully play my lyre, which survived the abuse I put it through when she died four days ago. It is how I ended up out here on the ground, drunk and exhausted and unable to even conjure up my wife’s name without breaking down in grief-stricken sobs. Everyone is tired of my dreary music.

“Oh, Orpheus.”

At first I ignore the sad little voice that says my name, sure it is another busybody spouting off theories about the one death I will never finish grieving. But when they call my name again, a timid little tug on my tunic confirming that they are truly speaking to me, I look up. The girl I find looks vaguely familiar, but I cannot quite place her.

“What?” I bite out, followed by a belch. “What do you want?”

The girl sighs and then leans down, reaching for me, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s take you to the river and clean you up.”

I slap at her hands, startling her. She backs up a few steps, eyes wide. “Do not touch me. You don’t get to touch me. No woman may touch me but my wife.”

Shaking her head sadly, the girl holds out a hand. “Please, Orpheus. Let me help my sister’s husband. You need us right now. And we need you, too.”

It comes to me as I stare at her, who the petite woman in front of me steadfastly offering me her hand is. “?layda,” I slur, recognizing her now as the naked nymph who wanted her to dance at Pan’s gathering. “You’re ?layda.”

?layda nods. “Yes. We do not know each other but for the night you married my sister. I know she loved well. It would be an affront to her to not help the man she waited for all these years when he needed it most.”

With that, I drag myself off the ground, knees wobbling when I push to my feet. ?layda quietly waits as I right myself and retch, bracing against the building for support. It’s a small mercy for controlling myself; for not vomiting right here on the street. When I’m confident that I can move while maintaining that, I turn to her sister.

?layda gestures toward the edge of town, toward the forest. When I hesitate, her eyes turn pleading. “Please, Orpheus. We must talk to you, and the townspeople dislike us to come here too many at once.”

I stagger toward the woods, and she sighs with relief. I am grateful when she does not attempt to help me, though I can tell by her fidgeting that she longs to steady me with a hand. It takes several centuries to make the walk to the trees, but I only have to stop twice to fight the sour heaving of my stomach.

As soon as I cross into the line of trees, where the town turns to forest, I find myself hoping that the viper who struck my beloved will reappear and take my life, too. While I have been tempted to take my own life, doing so would surely mean that the gods would punish me for the affront by sending me to the pits of Tartarus, instead of the Elysian Fields where she must be waiting for me.

?layda leads the way, veering off the known path, which makes the trek much harder. By the time we reach the river, I ache with exhaustion and exertion, my skin drenched with perspiration. Without thinking at all, I fumble with my lyre, dropping it to the ground. I crash into the waters onto my knees and scoop up cold, clear water into my cupped hands, splashing it against my face.

I am drenched by the time I finish washing off days’ worth of grime, sweat, and tears, but feel much more alert. When I turn to ?layda, I have to withhold a yelp when I see six other women standing with her. I recognize them all from the night of my impromptu wedding.

The one who appears to be the oldest, both in demeanor and indicated by the silver that is scattered through rich brown hair, steps forward. It occurs to me at that moment that their sister died because of me. Perhaps they have brought me here to do what I cannot do myself, and end my suffering.

I can only pray the gods hear my plea for it to be true.

“You are a mess,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain as she surveys me. She shoots a look at ?layda. “This is who you want to send?”

?layda rolls her eyes. “Do not be daft, Alkmini. Of course, it has to be him. He’s her husband.”

“Was,” Alkmini corrects, glowering at me. “Was Eurydice’s husband.”

The name cuts through me like an arrow. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it since her death, but I cannot bring myself to say it myself.

A nymph with silver white hair steps forward and, ignoring her two now-bickering sisters, comes to the edge of the river. Her bare toes sink into the soft mud as she openly studies me with equally silver eyes.

“We have a request for you, Orpheus,” she says softly. Her eyes brim with tears then, and she swipes them away with a sniffle. “Eurydice must come back.”

My eye twitches at the name said for the second time in only a few moments.

“Peta,” Alkmini snaps.

Peta does not turn at the sound of her name, waiting patiently for my reply.

“She’s gone,” I answer hoarsely.

She tips her chin down in confirmation. “Yes. Taken from us all, waiting in the Underworld.”

The back of my neck prickles with an ominous feeling.

“We have heard you play,” she continues. “We have decided you should go to the Underworld and play for Hades. Beg him for his mercy and favor, and to give you back our sister.”

An incredulous laugh pours out of my mouth, but there is no humor in the sound. “Hades does not release souls.”

“Then convince him he should this time,” Alkmini says firmly. Glancing at ?layda, who glares, she sighs. “Please,” she adds gruffly.

My heart, which has been blackened and dead in my chest for days, thumps in hope. “He will never allow it,” I argue.

“The worst he can do is decline your offer,” Peta murmurs.

“Or punish me for my arrogance in thinking I could ask for such a thing,” I mumble under my breath.

The sisters fall silent, watching me as I stand, my soaked tunic hanging heavy around me. I wade through the water to the bank, turning over their request in my mind.

It is a death wish to enter the Underworld with such a cocky demand. Hades might very well sentence me to Tartarus simply for considering this. Then again—what do I have to lose?

I have already lost the only thing that mattered.

“How?” I ask, glancing at Peta. “Where can one who is living enter the House of Hades?”

Peta’s answering smile is beatific. “We can take you there. There is a cave at the edge of the sea that will lead you down into the Underworld.”

“Now,” I say, marching out of the water and snatching up my lyre. “We will go now.”

Alkmini snorts. “You are asking for an audience with Hades. You might want to make yourself presentable.”

I glance down and begrudgingly admit that she is probably right. The hem of my tunic is coated with mud, as are my sandals. ?layda beckons me to follow her and I do, the other sisters trailing close behind me. When she leads me through the trees to a clearing, I pause, taking in the pool of crystal clear water in the center.

“The water here is cleaner, and there is less mud,” ?layda announces. “We will get you clean clothing while you bathe.”

I nod and began untangling the tunic from my body as they all flit away, leaving me alone. Once nude, I step onto the flat stones that make up the edge of the pool and look into the water. It’s so clean and clear that I can see straight to the silty bottom.

I lower myself into the water, bracing myself for the shock of cold water and finding temperatures that border on scalding instead. My muscles relax as I ease in up to my chin, the hot water soothing the aches and pains of the body I have abused these past days.

About the time I deem myself scrubbed as well as can be expected in the middle of the forest, the nymphs return. ?layda sets down a clean tunic and a pair of sandals atop a boulder set away from the water. I stand fully, the water level only coming to just below my navel.

A giggle comes from one of the sisters I do not know the name of, but she is quickly reprimanded by Alkmini, and then ?layda shoos them all away. Leaving her back turned to me, she clears her throat as I exit the pool and start sloughing water from my hair and skin with my hands.

“The cave is only a single league away,” she informs me. “We should be able to arrive by sundown if we don’t make any stops.”

We do not speak as I finish drying well enough to wrap the clean tunic around me and strap my feet into the sandals. They’re almost too small, but I cram my feet in anyway. It will not matter how small my shoes were, regardless of whether Hades takes offense by my visit or not.

Dressed, I take my lyre and use the clean parts of my old tunic to wipe away dried mead and flecks of mud from its surface. ?layda seems to sense I am finished, turning as I securely strap the lyre to my body. Wordlessly, she nods and starts to walk.

Peta joins us as we journey through the forest, the other nymphs nowhere to be seen. We remain quiet, my anxiety building with every step. I should not be so concerned, since I have no real will to live, but I would be a fool to approach Hades without a modicum of humility and fear.

True to her word, ?layda pauses at the mouth of a cave just before sundown, the sunset sky streaked with purple and orange atop the Ionian Sea beyond.

“Here,” she says simply.

“Good luck, Orpheus,” Peta murmurs, glancing at me. There is sympathy there, but also acknowledgment that this could be the last time I ever see the mortal world.

I give them a terse nod, facing the cave, steeling myself to go forward. Neither of my wife’s sisters says a word, waiting with me as I build the courage to move.

As the last of the sun disappears beyond the horizon, I step into the darkness.

And onto the path to the Underworld.