Currency in Flesh

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

M aybe it was my expression, maybe it was the way I angrily stalked through the meadows, but somehow it must have been clear that I was in a mood.

One of the brothers stepped across my path, crossing sun-baked arms across his chest. I knew it wasn’t Charis, having grown somewhat familiar with his face in the few times we’d interacted, but I wasn’t sure which man stood before me.

Frankly, I didn’t care.

“Move,” I said. I tried to get past him, but he sidestepped, placing himself in front of me once again. I threw my hands in the air and let out an exasperated sigh. “I need to speak with her.”

“Not like that, you don’t,” he replied. His voice had a slight twang to it—the ends of the words dragged out longer than I’d have said them. It was the old-money southern voice of a man who wore a white seersucker suit. This man, however, wore slightly dirty looking jeans and a thin tee. His beard was shorter and thinner than Charis’s, but it was the same greyish-blonde.

“I don’t need your help, whoever you are, thanks.” My words were clipped. I wanted to get back to Lady Cora, to ask her about the barista. I wasn’t sure why it suddenly seemed like a matter of such importance, but it’s not like I had much more to worry about down here.

“Well, actually,” he intoned, “I think you do. And it’s Cyril. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Okay Cyril.” My foot tapped impatiently. “So lovely to meet you. Will you please get out of my way?”

“What, precisely, do you think you’re heading off to do?” he asked. The tilt of his head made me irrationally irritated, condescension dripping from his raised, scraggly brow.

“I was planning on asking Lady Cora why the barista is the way that she is. I wanted to know if there was any specific reason that girl Anna didn’t recall meeting me. I was wondering if I was connecting dots that didn’t exist, or if there was more to the afterlife than I currently understand.” Saying it out loud, I felt foolish immediately. Two random interactions were not enough to be making wild accusations over. Clearly, I was bored and needed something to occupy my time. Yet, pride dictated I remain across from Cyril, feigning indignance.

“And why would you think yourself important enough to know the intricacies of the Underworld?” Cyril looked around, hand held above his eyes, mocking me. “I do not see a new throne? Did I miss the announcement of your promotion from pet to partner?”

I didn’t like this asshole at all.

“I really don’t think we need to be having this conversation. I’d like to go back to my room, and I’m pretty sure that isn’t breaking any rules.” I copied his movements. “Did I miss where Lady Cora assigned you to be my keeper?”

His eyes flitted down from my eyes to my tattoo for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough. The flex of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils—this man was pissed that Lady Cora had… whatever she had done to me. I knew better than to instigate an an gry man, but what was the worst that could happen? It’s not like I could die. If he hurt me, Lady Cora could heal me. Plus, she’d probably kill him. So I went on. “I’m sorry my presence here is irksome to you for whatever reason, but Lady Cora has not forbidden me from seeking her out. Unless something has changed in the past few hours, she likes my company just fine.”

Cyril took a step toward me, and I flinched slightly. Bravado aside, my instincts ran deep. “I’m not Charis, and you would do well to remember that.” His condescending smile was gone.

“Yeah, okay,” I replied. “What are you here, anyway?”

He dropped his chin, looking at me from beneath those heavy brows. “Guard dog.”

“Back off,” a man’s voice came from behind. Spinning, I found Charis—looking as he always did, slightly grizzled and heavily bearded. He stepped beside me, placing one foot slightly in front of me. The gesture was almost chivalrous, putting himself between me and his grumpy brother. “Her Majesty would not appreciate this behavior.”

Cyril looked like he wanted to fight, tension almost palpable in the air between them. Charis, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered. He just ran his fingers through his beard and stared at his brother. After a few breaths, Cyril exhaled sharply and nodded once at Charis before turning and walking back toward the meadows without another word.

“What the fuck was that?” I whirled to face the more familiar man. “What did I ever do to him?”

Charis hesitated. “Cyril has been with Lady Cora for a very long time. He has served as her close confidant and first line of defense. I’d wager he feels some envy toward you.”

“I’m not gunning for his job,” I replied. “And what could Lady Cora possibly be in danger from? She’s a literal Goddess.”

I didn’t like the way he looked away. I had the creeping feeling that everyone was keeping something from me, and it made me queasy. Charis only confirmed my suspicion. “I am not at liberty to share things like this with you. May I escort you back to your room?”

The words were a request, but the sentiment wasn’t, so I nodded begrudgingly and followed Charis down the path. He was quiet as we walked, not bothering to look behind him. I could always try to sneak off, but realistically, I knew it would never work. Lady Cora said Charis knew of every soul in the Underworld, he’d certainly know if I ran away. But maybe I had been going about this the wrong way from the beginning.

“That girl, Anna, who you sent to my room—how do you know her?”

Charis’s gravel timbre came out in a chuckle. “As with every other soul, I brought her to the meadows. She’s a softhearted girl, and I thought you might appreciate some time with someone kind.”

“She was so young,” I answered, scrunching up my nose. “You couldn’t send me an adult?”

“Do you think I’m that stupid?” At this, he turned to meet my gaze. “I told you, she had an interest in you from the moment you walked into Pluto.”

“But she’s never kept anyone?”

“Not once.”

“Well,” I tried to thread as much nonchalance through my voice as I could, “you didn’t need to wipe her memory or whatever it is you did.”

Charis stopped. “What?”

“Anna, she didn’t recall having met me in the meadows. I just don’t see why you’d bother doing that.”

His expression tightened, eyes narrowing as his lips formed a grim line. “I did nothing to Anna’s memory. Perhaps you’re simply not as memorable as you think.”

He resumed walking, and I did a little jog to catch up. “ That’s possible.” I shrug. “And what about the coffee shop? Do you know the woman who works there?”

“Tera? She’s been here a long time—makes an excellent cappuccino.”

“Is that her name? Weird that you remember it and she could not.” The path curved downhill, and I saw the building that housed my room. I still hadn’t quite figured it out—how Lady Cora’s chamber sometimes connected to mine and sometimes didn’t. From the outside, it all looked so plain and small, but I knew looks were deceiving in this place.

“Ma’am, I don’t know what your angle is, but I have done nothing to anyone’s memory. I guide souls to where they belong. What happens to them after is generally not my concern.”

“But she’s been here a long time? Is that why? People forget as they approach”—I waved my hand in the air—“whatever you call the real end? Lady Cora told me the people in the isles don’t stay long. Do the people in the meadows eventually move on as well?”

The man’s fingers fidgeted at his side, and he didn't reply for a moment. Just as I was about to go on, he spoke. “Yes, all souls do eventually pass through. It can take centuries, though time is a more theoretical thing in the Underworld. Many times, it takes greeting a loved one to encourage them to evanesce. Seeing your child arrive in the Underworld, well-lived and elderly, it changes your perspective.”

“You didn’t answer my whole question,” I said. “Do people forget who they were?”

Charis shook his head. “No. Memory is something most souls treasure, they wouldn't give it up.”

“Then why doesn’t she remember her own name, Charis?”

He turned his back on me, gesturing to the dark building in front of us. “Here we are, m’lady.”

Before I could protest, he was gone.

There was a bright marigold atop my bed. My stomach churned with a sour mix of anger and warmth. I knew it was stupid; the coffee shop meant nothing to me, and I didn’t know these people. But something about the way Charis avoided my questions, and the way he spoke about memory had made me even more uneasy.

What else did people have down here? I was absolutely sure that remembering loved ones was important to nearly everyone in the Underworld. Maybe there were some who didn’t, for various possible reasons, but I couldn’t imagine parents not wanting to remember their children or lovers not wanting to recall their partners.

I made up my mind—if Charis wasn’t going to answer me, I would ask Lady Cora directly.

A shock of heat sparked between my thighs, thinking of the last time we were together. My fingertips traced the outline of the rose on my chest. I had to believe I meant something to her, and she would want to settle my nerves. In life, I would have taken one of my anxiety medications to diffuse thoughts like this. Down here, I didn’t have the luxury. When I really considered it though, I really hadn’t felt much anxiety in the Underworld. Part of me hoped it was due to Lady Cora’s presence.

I changed into a slinky nightdress that barely skimmed my thighs. Sure, Lady Cora might want to answer my questions out of fondness or some sort of respect, but it would be foolish not to also take into account how she felt about my body.

The bronze-framed mirror in my room reflected back the wide, soft skin of my thighs, the small swell of my stomach visible beneath the satin. My hair fell over my shoulders in shiny, chestnut waves—one spiral curl framing my face. I looked healthier than I had on Earth. My eyes were bright and there was a healthy flush to my cheeks. My lips always seemed to be just the right shade of neutral coral. My eyelashes were dark and thick, tickling my cheeks every time I closed my eyes.

I didn’t know if it was this place, or her attention, but I was starting to see myself more like how she saw me.

When I left my room, the light in the hall seemed to glow a little brighter—each step I took toward her rooms illuminated as though the building itself guided my way. The floor was smooth and warm beneath my bare feet, the darkness of the hallway trailing behind me like a mourning veil. The door to Lady Cora’s chambers seemed to appear out of nowhere, swinging open beside me with a barely audible whisper of sound.

“It is rather early for a nightgown,” Lady Cora’s voice drifted from somewhere inside.

“It’s comfortable, and I thought you might like it.” I stepped inside, shrugging. “I’m sure I could track down a winter parka if you’d prefer.”

Her hand closed around my throat with dizzying speed. “Impertinent, too? My, you are feeling feisty.” I felt her words rustle my hair and caught the hint of green her eyes cast over my shoulder.

“Apologies, Lady Cora.” When I swallowed, her hand loosened slightly, and she stepped beside me, running her other hand over my waist.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” The languid slide of her eyes down my body made my heartbeat quicken. I hoped she could feel it. The dress she wore was long, the inky fabric pooling on the marble floor, but a slit ran up to the top of her thigh, making her appear barely dressed.

“I met Cyril today. He was kind of a dick.” My eyes narrowed. “Is there a reason he seems to hate me?”

Lady Cora chuckled but there was no real mirth in it. “He undoubtedly finds your…” She seemed to search for the right word, fingers tapping against my hip. “He has never been pa rticularly welcoming. I think if he were to have his way, he would be the one warming my bed”

My nose scrunched up at the thought of the scraggly, wrinkled man touching Lady Cora, and she laughed again. This time, there was humor in the sound, bright like bells. “Yes, yes,” she said. “He knows his desire is unrequited. But he undoubtedly resents your position.”

“Oh, it’s a position?” I raised an eyebrow. “Am I up for a promotion?”

Her hand dropped lower, grazing my mound on its way to my other hip. “Promotions are performance-based.” She crossed in front of me, and I immediately missed her touch. “Can I get you a drink?”

There were a handful of crystal decanters beside two glasses and a bucket of ice. Had she been expecting me? “Of course.” Like a well-trained pet, I trotted after her and she poured a bit of deep red liquor into a low tumbler. Plucking a single cube of ice from the bucket between her long nails, she paused. Rather than dropping it into the drink, she brought it to my lips.

I opened my mouth for her and gave a soft moan when she swirled the ice across my tongue and over my lower lip. She stepped closer, crowding my body with hers and looking down at me with melted water dripping down the front of my dress. I sucked in a sharp breath as a droplet rolled down my breast, settling in the fold of my stomach. Her lips curled up in a wicked smile and she removed the rapidly dwindling cube from within my lips, sliding it across my chest. “So sensitive,” she murmured when my skin pebbled beneath her touch. The ice was nearly gone, only a tiny sliver of cold, and she pressed it to my nipple, flattening her fingers to feel my peaked flesh beneath the fabric of my dress.

“Did you come here to discuss the men in my employ, blossom?” she asked, pinching my hard nipple and making me gasp. The sharp points of her nails traced the curve of my jaw, and I lifted my face to hers. Before I could construct a reply, they slid into my hair, tightening against my scalp. She leaned down, speaking against my lips. “I wish to never hear a man’s name fall from your lips again, pet. Especially dressed like that. Now tell me, why are you here?”