2. Chapter 2
Chapter two
M ost residents in the Village of Lost Souls feared the River Acheron—and with good reason—but Noah Marsh had always found it rather soothing.
Seated on the black sands that stretched along the shoreline, he watched the glowing blue orbs that floated in the dark waters. Thousands, if not millions, of disembodied souls drifted on the gentle current, their luminescence shining through the mist as they awaited their chance at reincarnation.
To pass the time, he made up stories for them.
A Persian prince who might come back as a social media influencer.
An impoverished farmer who would be the CEO of a tech conglomerate.
A child lost to disease who would go on to cure cancer in her next life.
He didn’t know what qualified a soul for reincarnation, but he assumed they had things to accomplish or lessons to learn. Which meant he probably hadn’t ever lived a past life himself.
Dead in his twenties without so much as a participation trophy under his belt, it seemed pretty unlikely that centuries of second chances would end so anticlimactically.
To the people who loved him, only a few months had passed since his mortal life had come to an end on that dark and winding road. For him, however, it felt like ancient history.
He’d spent centuries in the Underworld, waiting for…something.
For a long time, he had thought he was waiting for his twin brother. They had been inseparable their entire lives, and he couldn’t imagine crossing over without him.
Then Keegan had gone and gotten himself killed—idiot—but nothing had really changed. Sure, he had his brother by his side again, but he still felt stuck, anticipating something he couldn’t put a name to.
Scooping up a handful of sand, he chucked it toward the water, grunting when the grains scattered across the surface with no sound and barely a ripple. Fuck, everything just felt so damn muted sometimes.
It frustrated him, but it also worried him. How numb would he become before he eventually faded away?
When those feelings became overwhelming, when the endless dusk of the Underworld felt suffocating, he clung harder to the echoes of his old life. The scent of rain on cracked pavement, the taste of cheap black coffee, the thrum of music against the windows of his beloved old Mustang.
Yet no matter how many times he retraced those half-remembered steps, nothing changed. That was kind of the thing about this side of the river. Eventually, the monotony got to everyone.
Still, the restlessness remained, the sense of expectation for some task or purpose left unfinished. And he had started to suspect that it wasn’t about a lesson to be learned, but rather a question.
How did his story end?
“Well, you’re not going to find out by sitting there pouting.”
Noah stiffened at the Reaper’s sudden appearance, but he had become too accustomed to people popping in and out of thin air to be dramatic about it.
Dressed in a black suit and tie with hair the color of midnight and eyes just as dark, the male looked more like a politician than a harbinger of death. He also happened to be the Reaper who had escorted him to the Underworld.
And he was kind of an asshole.
“Stay out of my head.”
Bane smirked. “Then stop broadcasting.”
Good advice. Since he didn’t know how to do that, though, he ignored it.
“Why are you here?”
“I’m doing my job.” His eyes slid to the side, his gaze flitting toward the rickety dock that stretched out over the river.
Noah followed suit, his eyebrows drawing together when he spotted what appeared to be a young woman with a curtain of strawberry blonde hair. She didn’t seem concerned or confused like most souls, though.
Granted, he couldn’t see her face, but he had learned to recognize the little signs in body language—pacing, hand wringing, tension in the shoulders. This female, however, didn’t exhibit any of those behaviors.
She stood eerily still as she stared out over the water, but despite her rigidness, something about her felt off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, just a vibe really, but she definitely unsettled him.
“That one?” A shadow settled over the sharp angles of the Reaper’s face, and he shook his head. “You can smell the crazy on that fledgling.”
“She’s a vampire?”
Bane dipped his head. “And it makes her fucking unpredictable.”
While he appreciated the information, he’d never known the guy to be particularly chatty. “Why are you telling me this?”
In answer, Bane shrugged and simply vanished, leaving only a stretch of empty sand.
Fucking Reapers.
With the warning still ringing in his ears, he pushed to his feet and dusted off his backside. Unstable baby vamp or not, she was newly dead and could probably use some guidance. Not exactly his responsibility, but with no one else around, it seemed he had just inherited the job.
Making his way down the riverbank, he approached slowly, clearing his throat and dragging his feet through the sand to announce his arrival. Still, she didn’t turn or acknowledge him.
He slapped on a smile and pitched his voice so as not to startle her. “Hey, I’m Noah.” She still didn’t look at him. “Can I help you?”
Nothing. Not even a twitch.
“If you wait at the pier, a boat will come for you. Charon looks scary, but he’s not so bad.” The hooded ferryman with his dark reputation actually had a cherub face and the wholesome dumbass demeanor of a golden retriever. “If you’re not ready to cross, though, there are apartments at the—”
And she was gone.
No rush of wind. No cartoonish whooshing sound. She simply turned and sprinted up the hill in a blur of inhuman speed before disappearing into the village.
Staring at the spot where she’d vanished into the shadowed alleyway, he considered chasing after her. Then he snorted out a laugh at the sheer absurdity. He would never catch her, and even if he did, she clearly had no interest in hearing what he had to say.
His laughter ended in a quiet sigh, and he dragged his fingers through his hair, pushing the strands back from his brow. While not his problem, he should probably let someone know there was a new, and possibly unhinged, vampire on the loose.
The sands shifted beneath his feet, slowing his climb as he trudged up the slope toward the cobblestone streets and thatched huts. The sounds of conversation, laughter, and even music floated on the air, most of it coming from the village tavern.
A stark contrast to the solemn quiet that had blanketed the hamlet when he had first arrived on its shores. Hell, even a year ago, the place had been depressing, and it had been a rarity to see other souls strolling along the narrow lanes.
Now, humans and Otherlings bustled between the ramshackle shops. They greeted each other with smiles. They gathered at the diner, or the bakery, or paused for small talk right there on the streets.
He didn’t know what had triggered the change, but he liked it, and he hoped it lasted.
When he recalled things he missed from his mortal life, he didn’t think about expensive gadgets or modern conveniences like streaming channels. Rather, he missed the sense of community. He missed the infectious energy from the places where people came together.
And cheeseburgers. He’d die all over again for a fucking cheeseburger.
Exiting the alleyway beside the apothecary, he searched up and down the main road. Though he spotted quite a few familiar faces, none of them would be much help to him at the moment.
He headed for the diner.
Located at the edge of the village, rumor had it that the building had been the very first structure built along the river. Noah could believe it. The place certainly had a distinctive lean to it, and dimples in the roof showed where it had been patched over the millennia.
Small circles of candlelight struggled to shine through grimy and scratched windowpanes, and rusted door hinges announced his arrival with a deafening squeal. Despite the layer of dust that seemed to coat anything that stood still long enough, the interior managed to feel cozy and welcoming.
Flames leapt merrily in a stone fireplace against the far wall, and the scent of brewed coffee filled the small room. Every slanted table and rickety chair appeared to be filled, a nice change from the barrenness of the past.
He smiled and waved at some of the patrons, doing his best to ignore the way the sand crunched beneath his feet as he made his way to the back of the diner.
At the end of the long counter, pushed up against another dingy window, he came to a stop a respectful distance away from the end of the booth there.
“Noah!” Prince Orrin Nightstar beamed up at him from his seat, his piercing gray eyes sparkling with welcome. “Please—” He shook back the sleeve of his robe and motioned to the seat across from him. “—join us.”
Hitching his smile a little brighter, Noah swallowed past the throbbing pulse in his throat as he slid onto the bench beside the other new vampire in town.
A resident for almost a year now, Finn Truitt wasn’t exactly new to the village anymore, but until now, he had been the only vampire to pass through in a while.
He also had the uncommon distinction of arriving to the afterlife with no knowledge of how he’d died—or even that he had been made a vampire.
“Hey, Finn.”
“Noah.” His soft brown eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “Still no haircut?”
Pinching a strand between his fingers, he tugged self-consciously at the chin-length locks. He’d worn his hair in a variety of styles and lengths over the years, but this time, he hadn’t intended to let it grow so long.
He just couldn’t seem to make himself step inside the local barbershop.
“Does it look bad?”
“No, not at all.” Finn’s thick West Texas accent rolled off his tongue like honey as he reached out and tucked the hair behind Noah’s ear. “I like it.”