Page 21 of Dead Serious Halloween Special

“How do you keep the souls in line?”

“Torture,” Hades replies brightly. “Sometimes just the threat is enough. The trick is to wield itcorrectly. Torture is a precision tool to be used with a delicate hand, not a club. I only had to flay a few souls, and the rest just fell right in line like dominoes.”

“Not really my area of expertise.”

“You know, you should come for supper,” Hades says. “Persephone does an excellent heart and liver dish in a really delicate black bean sauce. I don’t know how she gets the balance just right, but you can really taste the damnation. In fact, you should bring your partner.” Hades gaze trails over to Chan, who has climbed off the table and is now standing next to Death, pressed against his side.

“He’s human,” Death replies.

“Not a problem.” Hades waves a hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had a living soul visit Hades. Is it, Olivia?” he throws over his shoulder. She shakes her head.

I turn my attention back to Chan, who is staring at Hades and then glances up at Death with a small frown. “Can’t wejust go to aToby Carvery?”

“I hate to break up this mutual lovefest you two have going on,” Olivia interrupts, “but we really are running out of time.”

“What do you mean, running out of time?”I ask, the sense of renewed panic now threatening to bubble over.

“I mean, you have until midnight to get all the creatures back in the book unless you want them permanently running amokalong the streets of Whitechapel.” She frowns. “What concerns me is that they went to all the trouble of capturing Puck so they could find Tristan specifically. If they know he’s the one who opened the book and therefore the only one who can force them back inside, it doesn’t bode well for your husband.”She wincesin sympathy. “We need to find him before they decide a more permanent solution is required to stop him from banishing them.”

“Fuck,” I hiss. “What do we do?”

“We need to find them first,” Harrison chimes in.

“Good idea.” Olivia nods. “You should do that.”

“Me?” Harrison exclaims, clutching the Gospodar tighter. “How am I supposed to find them? Just wander around the streets of Whitechapel looking for a really big boat?”

“Ship,” Sam corrects helpfully. “I believe they’re called ships, Prickles.”

Harrison sends him a glare.

“Have you still not learned to travel by witchsmoke?” Olivia sighs in exasperation before pointing at him with intent. “You and I are going to have words after this is over.”

She huffs out an annoyed breath and then disappears in a violent swirl of purple smoke.

“She does that,” Hades observes. “She’s a lot like Persephone, actually. She can get quite cranky when she’s under pressure.”

Before anyone can say anything in response, Olivia reappears. “Okay, they’re a few blocks that way.” She points to the left. When I stare at her, she rolls her eyes. “Fine, streets, whatever. They’re in that direction, but they’ve dropped anchor. Doesn’t look as if they’re moving.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Chan pulls off his one remaining stiletto and tosses it over his shoulder, leaving him standing in fishnets.

“Uh, Chan,” I say carefully, not wanting to put him in any more danger. “Maybe you should stay here and rest. You did just get smacked in the face with a whole load of fairy mojo.”

“That sounded really smutty.” Sam smirks, causing Harrison to glare even harder. “Just sayin’.”

“Fuck that,” Chan says fiercely. “That sea-shanty-singing, seven-seas-rampaging, rum-swilling cocksickle has my kid. I’m going to rip that black beard off his fucking face one hair follicle at a time.”

“Bloodthirsty little thing, isn’t he?” Hades remarks mildly.

Death beams. “Isn’t he perfect?”

We’re hauled up onto a massive wooden ship parked outside The Crown and Feathers. It’s impressive, and reminds me of the Swedish warship Vasa. We’re dumped unceremoniously onto the deck. Aidan is curled up alongside me and, like me, has his hands and feet bound together tightly.

I look up as Captain Blackbeard strides onto the deck, followed by a short, neatly dressed man in a white shirt and cravat, a rich brocade doublet, and black pantaloons. His brown hair is tied at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon, and he carries a roll of parchment and a quill.

Blackbeard’s fearsome gaze falls on me and Aidan. “Tie ’em to the yardarm!” he thunders as he approaches.

“Um, sir!”The small man scurries along in his wake, almost colliding with Blackbeard’s broad back when he stops abruptly and spins around to face him.