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“You were killed last week, Ms. Pebbles.”

“I was.” It didn’t sound like a question. She knew. “Did you save me?”

“No.” I let the word hang between us.

There was a very short window of time I could use to pull someone out of the jaws of death: minutes. Then, they belonged to the lord of the underworld.

I was not dumb enough to steal from Hades. Borrow? Certainly. He wasn’t stingy enough to be picky over one Asphodel soul for a few moments. But the only godspawn stupid enough to have stolen from him, Asclepius, had paid the price. Sure, Zeus brought him back, but I wasn’t about to take that bet.

“The one thing I can offer you is justice. Tell me what happened. Who did this to you? What did they look like?”

She started crying. “I’m so young.”

She was. I would guess she was around my age, if that. Young, healthy people died every day. The world was cruel and cold and uncaring. I felt sorry for her, but not enough to risk the price. “If you can’t answer me, love, I’m sending you back, and those who killed you won’t pay the price.”

She kept sobbing, but I could tell she tried. “I was—it was night. Came back from dinner with a man. Very nice. Important. He walked me to the door. Then I heard a voice. A woman, I think. Someone hit me from behind.” She sobbed harder. “I passed out, but the pain woke me up. So much pain. They were cu—cutting. Burning. Cutting and burning, over and over. I was tied up. I heard a laugh. That voice. So cold.”

“They,” I repeat. “More than one person?”

“Yes. One cut. Another one chanted. And that voice,” she repeated.

Then she cried and cried and screamed.

“Shhhh,” I said softly. “It’s all right. All is well.”

I brought my hands to the magically flat inner pocket of my jacket, pulling out a purse. “You’re going to sleep. You’re ever so tired.”

This voice, I never used. The fact I was able to had always greatly disturbed me.

I was nothing like my mother, or even my brother, who could sing someone to the edge of a cliff and beyond.

But there was siren blood in my veins, and if there was one time I had no shame in making use of it, it was when I was comforting the dead.

“That’s it.” I laid down ten coins onto her body, over the plastic sheath, keeping the last two for her eyes, before brining my hands back to her head. “Sleep, Nancy.”

The way back to hell was much easier, alongside her soul. She was meant to be there; I only rode along, and dropped her off at her spot.

The moment I closed the link, all twelve coins disappeared.

I grunted.

I was going to need a drink before this was over.

I slid her back inside the refrigerated chamber, wiped my nose, and pulled out the next one Gideon had indicated.

Time for a chat with Mr. Swann.

39

KLEOS

When I stood before the judges of the underworld, and they asked why I should be allowed in the Isle of the Blessed, I'd point out that I survived an hour with Armand Worthing without shoving my pen into his eye socket.

The ultra-white-toothed journalist leaned in too close, and the whiff of the vile aftershave he used liberally practically knocked me out. "Come on, now, dahling. You can tell me."

I wondered if he thought his so-called charms worked on anyone? Forcing a smile, I repeated myself. "It's as I said. I had a headache, so I left early."

He looked down at his notes. "By all accounts, you were first seen with Mr. Valmont, and then—shocking, shocking—with none other than the youngest Regis heir, right before the scandalous events of last night. Are you saying neither gentleman…erm." The way he faked his cough was almost as annoying as his tendency to pat my knees, no matter how far back I kept them from his grubby paws. "Took you home."