Chapter Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Eight
Tolliver shows up first the next morning. He walks right in, says, “Hey,” as though it’s any normal day, throws off his jacket, the flannel underneath, and goes immediately to the pantry to find a tub of cheese puffs.
He sits next to me on the couch, silently munching away, not looking at me. The air is thick with tension, and not the sexy kind. I’ve never felt awkward around Tolliver, even at the height of my crush, but it feels like whatever happens next is going to define our relationship.
Well, here goes nothing.
I swallow. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the hellhound.”
Oh, gross. Apologies, gross. I hated that.
After a moment, Tolliver nods his head. “Thanks.”
Well, that went better than expected.
But then Tolliver turns, looks me in the eye, and says, “If you ever keep something like that from me again, I’m done.”
I don’t know if he means done with the crew or done with us, but either way, it doesn’t bear thinking about.
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Cool,” he says, and then offers me a cheese puff.
Ezra’s the next to arrive, and I have to admit I’m kind of surprised.
The magic you get from the Afterlife is very motivating—I’m assuming, as it’s done me no good—but surely not motivating enough to go to hell with a crew that’s falling apart for a job you have no personal stake in.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think New Guy liked us.
Rook arrives next. His expression is open and excited when he walks in, but his mask falls into place when he sees the guys sitting on the couch, passing the Switch between them.
There’s still a tinge of a blush on his cheeks, though, and I feel heat rise to my own, but it’s probably just allergies.
Actually, no, you know what? I can be honest with myself. I am happy to see him, and I would like to make out with him again, thank you very much. How’s that for growth?
The four of us spend the next hour in stilted conversation until CJ arrives with my familiar on their shoulder. Crowlene caws raspily, then flies to my lap, presenting me with one of those plastic rings from a bottle cap.
“Thanks,” I mumble, giving her a pet.
“She came to get me,” CJ explains. “I guess we’re still doing this?”
I nod cautiously. I wasn’t sure they would stay. They’ve spent the last year looking out for Dante’s little sister, riding in on their white horse (or black hearse, I guess) to save me. I wouldn’t blame them if they decided they were out.
I’m relieved, though, when they pull up the director’s chair and sit down.
We wait for Poppy in near silence, the only noises coming from the Switch.
I honestly have no idea if she’ll show. She’s never yelled at me before.
In fact, I’ve never seen her yell at anyone before.
I don’t know what to do about it. I could try apologizing, like I did with Tolliver, but I don’t think it will be that simple.
After about twenty minutes of awkwardly passing Mario Kart around, I clear my throat. “Well, I guess we should get started.”
Tolliver opens his mouth to say something—probably to ask about Poppy—but Ezra nudges him and shakes his head.
I sit forward. “We have a way to get myself and one—”
The door swings open, and Poppy walks in. Her eyes are red, and she’s wearing sweatpants. They’re cute sweatpants, but still. We silently watch her prop herself up on a barstool as far away from me as she can get.
She gives me a look that tells me I don’t have a chance at forgiveness anytime soon.
“For Dante,” she says.
I’ll take it.
The plan is this:
Using Juliet, I’ll enter the Afterlife with one of the limen stones in my pocket. Poppy will go to the Phantoms, tell them I died, and volunteer to lure me into trusting her so she can hand me over.
Does Poppy seem a little too gleeful at the prospect of turning me in? Yes. Is CJ fuming at the fact Poppy will be going back to their family? Also yes.
I briefly considered suggesting I use the tower obol I pulled from Credence’s grave—it would attract a hellhound, who would then take me straight to Tartarus—but with Poppy we can control the timing. Plus, I don’t want to admit to Rook that I stole it.
Once in a cell, I have two jobs: learn everything I can about how Tartarus works and keep the limen stone on me.
After a few days, I’ll activate the stone to pull CJ in.
Since it’s runic magic, even someone as magicless as me can operate it.
If I lose the stone or the spell fails, I’ll be stuck in hell forever.
Because one of the few things we know for sure about Tartarus is that you can’t be brought back from the Afterlife while you’re in a cell.
Case in point: Steven Driver, a friend of my parents who once snuck into Tartarus to get information from a prisoner.
The plan was to cut off his Miracle Max if things went south.
Well, south is exactly where things went, but when his alchemist tried to pull him out, nothing happened.
As far as we know, he’s still in Tartarus. That’s my fate if anything goes wrong.
So, you know. Fingers crossed.
By the time CJ arrives, I should have an idea of where to find Credence’s cell: number 667. (I know, so close to 666. I was disappointed too.) I’ll also have a concrete plan for how to save her.
No pressure.
Once we’ve reunited Credence with her finger bone, we’ll reconvene, Tolliver will bring us all back to the Beforedeath, and Poppy will complete the resurrection spell.
Piece of cake.
I’ll be honest with you: The crew doesn’t love it. I think Ezra’s had four panic attacks, and he’s not even going to Tartarus. And yes, the plan is rough. But I know I can do this. Improvising the hell out of situations is what I’m best at.
I’ve spent the last year trying to be another version of Dante: meticulous, detailed, methodical. But I’m not Dante. I’m not my parents. Or anyone else on this crew. Maybe, just maybe, I can save Dante not by being Dante but by being me.
Elle’s Rule #1: Play to your strengths.
We don’t start in the graveyard.
I’m going to be in Tartarus for a few days, and my supposed corpse can’t be lying in a cemetery all that time.
Not aboveground, at least. So I’ll go into the Afterlife from home, and then Tolliver and Ezra will move my unoccupied body to the graveyard in two days, after I’ve had time to gather enough intel.
I don’t love the idea of my soulless body being dragged around, but I trust Tolliver with my life and death, and besides, this is for Dante. I’ll put up with a lot of discomfort—hell, even pain—to get him back.
Tolliver is in his lab in the basement, mixing up a batch of Juliet. CJ is soaking the limen stone in Soul Attaché. Ezra is sitting at the breakfast bar having anxiety sweats.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Rook asks, kneeling beside where I lie on Dante’s recliner.
I give him a confused look. “You’re the one who hired me—”
“I know. But that was before…” He looks around to see if anyone is listening.
“Before we made out on your sister’s grave?” I ask, then frown. “Sorry, was that insensitive?”
He chuckles. “A bit. But I kind of like that about you.”
He’s about to lean over and kiss me, but then Tolliver walks in the room with a flask of Juliet, and I turn my head away. I pretend I don’t see either of their looks of disappointment.
As Tolliver sets up, Ezra hovers nearby, wiping his hands on his jeans. “So how is this different?”
I tilt my head back. “Aw, New Guy. Are you worried about me?”
He shrugs. “You sign my paychecks.”
“Nobody signs your paychecks. You get paid in cash.”
“It’s not that different,” Tolliver says, connecting some tubing. “She’ll feel more stable, appear more solid. The…tether between her soul and body will be a little thinner, but she’ll still be able to find her way back.”
Tolliver meets my eyes for a moment, like he wants to say something more, but then his gaze drops to Rook’s fingers curled around mine and he turns away. I pull my hand free to scratch my neck.
CJ notices and raises a scarred eyebrow.
“See you in hell.” I give them a salute.
They give me an unimpressed slow blink.
Tolliver places the mask over my mouth, then arranges it until he’s satisfied. He takes longer than normal to straighten out the line before placing his fingers on the valve.
“Ready?” he asks, then adds, “Ellie-bean?”
I blink in surprise at the childhood nickname, warmth flooding through me. I give him a tentative smile and nod.
“Freddy.”
He returns the smile and switches the valve.
Just like last time I took Juliet, I’m not sure it’s working at first.
It’s a gentle push, a slight tickle, but this time I feel the subtle transition from body to soul. When I open my eyes, I’m still in my living room. But Tolliver, Rook, CJ, and Ezra are missing.
In their place, Poppy sits on the couch, holding my feet in her lap.
“That took forever.”
“Hello to you too,” I say, grunting as she helps me sit up.
Between our shared memories, the living room looks just like it did right before Dante’s death. The claw-foot love seat is back. A hammock chair hangs from the ceiling. The plants I let die are verdant and thriving.
If Poppy is feeling nostalgic, she doesn’t show it.
“Come here often?” I ask.
She doesn’t smile, just fiddles with her watch. “Ready to go?”
I sigh. “Yeah. We just need to check our stories.”
She taps her foot. “I told them the Cult of Hades killed you. That I knew where you’d enter the Afterlife and I’d bring you to them for a price. Don’t worry, I got half up front. They gave me the address for the nearest portal to Tartarus.”
My eyebrows raise on their own accord. “There’s portals?”
She shrugs. “It’s some kind of subdimension, I guess. They have entrances all over the Afterlife.”
Poppy stands and smooths out her clothing. She’s vaguely translucent, wearing pleated slacks and a flowy blouse under a blazer with enormous shoulder pads. Her braids are pulled back into a high ponytail, and her makeup is muted but elegant.
It’s a stark contrast with my look: Striped joggers, tennis shoes, and an oversize hoodie. Messy bun. No makeup. For this to work, Poppy needs to look as put-together as possible, and I need to look like I wasn’t expecting to die today.
“You look like the no-nonsense businesswoman in an eighties film,” I say.
That almost cracks a smile. “Well, I do mean business.”