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“He’s fun. One of yours?”

“I’m not sure,” she whispers. “He could be an angel, I guess. He’s kind of a prick if he is.”

“Then he’s more like most of the angels I’ve met. Your bunch are the weird ones.”

“I’m glad we could broaden your horizons. You don’t want to know what a lot of angels say about you.”

“No. I don’t.”

“No. You don’t.”

“How do all of you fit your wings in the car?”

“We tuck.”

“You can tuck your wings?”

“Oh yeah. They fold up real small. I’ll show you sometime.”

“Quiet!’ shouts Charon. “You people and your noise. I should charge you double just for the aggravation.”

Vehuel shoots Alice a look. She mouths “Sorry” back at the boss.

A few minutes later, Charon finishes counting and goes to the support where he’d been hiding earlier. When he comes back, he’s holding a long ash staff.

“I am Charon, boatman of the Styx—”

“We know who you are, Charon,” says Vehuel.

“Don’t interrupt. Now I have to start over. I am Charon, boatman of the Styx. All may pass, but all must pay.”

“Of course,” says the Magistrate.

“In gold,” says the old man drawing out the O.

The Magistrate reaches into his duster and pulls out a dove. As it flies away, he’s already shooting playing cards from hand to hand. He fans out the deck and says, “Pick a card.”

“No,” says Charon.

“Oh, come on. You want to be paid, do you not?”

Charon makes a sour face and points to a card. With a great flourish, the Magistrate tosses the rest of the cards into the air, where they burst into flame and disappear. With another extravagant flourish, he turns over Charon’s card for us to see. There’s a picture of a gold coin in the center. People applaud. He shows the card to Charon. The old man takes it and throws it into the river. He shakes his staff.

“Do you see this staff which I hold? With it, I bar or open the way to the river. With it, I command the ships and the tide. But without gold, I’ll do nothing at all and you can all bugger off the way you came.”

“Of course, dear sir,” says the Magistrate. He snaps his fingers and there’s a gold coin there, like he plucked it out of the air. People applaud politely.

Charon takes the coin and tosses it into the river.

“Not enough,” he says. “Gold for all of them. Every soul. Every Hellion. Every one of your pretty little angels.” He smiles sourly at Vehuel. She smiles sourly right back. “And gold for your transports. Double gold for those big bastards at the back. What’re they?”

“Trucks,” I shout.

“Trucks? Funny word,” Charon says. “Yes. Double for them. And double for him. He has a big mouth.”

Everyone looks at me.

“You’re not helping,” says Alice.