Page 10 of Definitely Dead (Happily Ever Afterlife #1)

Chapter ten

A ster’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he sagged forward, his body wilting against Tyr’s side. While concerned about what this meant for his mate—wherever he was now—he couldn’t stop the feral grin that split his lips.

Aster had thought himself clever, able to fool even the gods, and that hubris would be his downfall.

Tyr suspected the spell reversal had been intentional. He doubted, however, that Aster had expected it to happen on a boat in the middle of the river. The little bastard had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and he had just delivered himself right into the hands of the one person in the Underworld he most wanted to avoid.

The mage stirred with a quiet groan, stretching his neck and rubbing his arms as if settling back into his own body. “Ah, that’s better.”

“Everything okay?” Tyr asked, enjoying the way Aster’s eyes flared with apprehension.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I think I passed out there for a second.”

“No need to be sorry,” Tyr told him. “Everything will be over soon.”

Aster nodded, his eyes darting from side to side. “Right. You know, maybe this isn’t such a good idea. We don’t even know where he went.”

“Don’t worry.” He took a step toward the witch, forcing him back, herding him toward the front of the boat. “I have a good feeling we’re going to find him.”

“Love.” He choked the word out, his lips twisting as if he had tasted something sour. “I think we should go back. This is dangerous.”

“Oh, it’s very dangerous.”

Aster seemed taken aback for a moment, but he recovered quickly, giving him a saccharine smile. “Exactly. It’s not worth it. We can find another way.” He reached toward Tyr with a trembling hand. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay,” he answered easily. “I just need to know something first.”

The mage blinked back at him, his gaze filled with false innocence. “What is that?”

In one swift, lethal move, Tyr caught him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him over the edge of the boat, dangling him above the river.

“Whoa!” Charon called. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Back off,” he barked when the ferryman tried to approach, his gaze never leaving Aster. “Tell me where my mate is?”

Holding Tyr’s arm in a frantic grip, he glanced down at the water, then back, his eyes bulging with panic. “Tyr! What are you doing? It’s me. It’s Sunne!”

“Where is my mate?” he asked again. “What did you do to him?”

“Tyr, this is crazy! I swear, it’s me! Ask me. Ask me anything.”

A deep, resonating growl shook his chest. “If I were you, I’d choose my next words carefully.”

Their eyes locked, understanding passing between them. Tyr knew the truth, and Aster had realized it. One move away from checkmate, and everything came down to the witch’s next play.

“Oh, okay.” Abandoning the frightened fawn act, he adopted a cocky grin as he studied Tyr through narrowed eyes. “What gave me away?”

Tired of the game, Tyr shook him roughly. “Where is Sunne? I won’t ask you again.”

“Right where he’s supposed to be,” he answered cryptically. “One soul judged and remitted to the afterlife. That’s how the system works, right?”

Tyr stilled, every muscle in his body clenched with rage.

He had been working off the assumption that the body swap had been a distraction. Something to keep them chasing their tails while Aster snuck across the river. Maybe in search of an artifact or talisman, or maybe even a loophole to this whole death thing.

If he had passed through the Gates of Judgement, though, it was so much worse than anything Tyr could have imagined.

The scales that determined a person’s fate weighed the soul. Not the vessel. Once judged, the results—good or bad—were immediate and immutable. The dead received no appeals, no do-overs, and no chance to plead their case.

Aster had just pulled off a soul heist that had the potential to shake the very foundations of the Underworld. He had hijacked Sunne’s body to face his own judgment, then reversed the spell, leaving Sunne to pay for his sins for the rest of eternity.

Now, he could only hope Aster had even a shred of decency in him, just enough goodness to land him a lesser sentence. While still places of eternal punishment, at least Sunne had a chance in the Whisper Woods or the Catacombs.

No one survived the Tombs.

“Start talking, or so help me—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?”

“No. You’re already dead.” But Tyr could make sure he no longer existed.

Aster watched him, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “So, you’ll what? Erase me? Throw me in the river?” He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “What would your mate think?”

“He’ll get over it.”

“Maybe, but will you? Can you live with that guilt?” His chest heaved with a deep sigh. “I don’t think you can.”

Tyr smirked. “You’re wrong.”

Then he uncurled his fingers and pulled his hand back, watching with a kind of primal satisfaction as Aster fell toward the water with a startled gasp. There was no splash, no disturbance. Only a shower of emerald light that flared and dissipated when he broke the surface.

“We’re almost there,” Charon said into the silence that followed.

Tyr turned and raised an eyebrow at his casual tone.

“What? He panicked and jumped into the river. Happens all the time.”

Tyr could only shake his head at the ferryman.

As they neared the far shore, thin rays of silver light began to break through the darkness, casting a cold hue across the sands. Overhead, blackness gave way to a sky of glittering stars and iridescent clouds, while a warm, fragrant breeze blew over the lake.

The longboat slowed, gliding to a stop next to a wide dock, its polished wood gleaming in the starlight.

“Good luck,” Charon told him as he stepped out of the boat. “I hope you find your mate.”

Then he sailed away, disappearing into the darkness once more.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” a voice rang out from the other end of the landing.

Though he had only met Hades on two other occasions, he wasn’t the kind of person someone forgot. A mane of hair the color of moonlight swept behind him in the wind, and his eyes narrowed when Tyr approached.

“And yet, here I am.”

“Here you are.” The god rested his hands on his hips, his leather jacket in an offensive shade of neon pink bunching at the hem. “What happened to the witch?”

“I threw him in the river,” Tyr answered without a hint of remorse. “He had it coming.”

To his surprise, Hades grinned. “You’re not wrong. Still, a shame that it ended so quickly.”

Tyr shrugged. “It was efficient. What did he do anyway? I mean, besides soul snatching my mate.”

Which he doubted Hades cared about. If he had taken an interest in Aster, it had to be something bigger.

“Oh, not much. He just murdered thirteen people, rode their souls to the Underworld, then loopholed himself right the fuck out of judgment.” A quiet, menacing growl punctuated his words, and his obsidian eyes flared with an orange glow.

Tyr perked up. Yes, murder, spells, soul-jacking—all bad. Very sad. But he only cared about the last part of that little rant.

“What judgment? What was his punishment?”

Hades sighed. “Your mate is in the Whisper Woods.”

“How do I get there?”

“I’ll take you. Save your mate, if you can, but this isn’t over.” He wagged his thumb between them. “You broke the rules. There will be consequences.”

Tyr nodded his understanding. Once he brought Sunne back, he’d face whatever Hades had waiting for him.

“Take me to my mate.”

“Very well.”

The stars blinked out, the breeze stilled, and the sparkling shoreline disappeared as a vast field opened up before him. At its edges, a stone archway that seemingly led nowhere loomed in the darkness, surrounded by an ominous, ancient forest of twisted trees.

Tyr cast a sideways glance at the god. “This is it?”

“This is it,” Hades confirmed. “Careful you don’t get lost.”

“You know he doesn’t deserve this.”

“I do.”

“You could bring him back yourself.”

“I could,” Hades agreed with a nod.

Tyr grunted in frustration. “Then why don’t you?”

Hades stared straight ahead, his eyes trained on the archway. “Things like this exact a price.” Finally, he turned, his black gaze boring into Tyr’s soul. “If you want your mate back, only you can pay it.”

Taking a deep breath, Tyr released it slowly and squared his shoulders. If the Underworld wanted payment, he would give it with interest.

With a last look at the god, he turned and began marching across the field toward the forest.

“Oh, one more thing,” Hades called after him.

He paused and looked over his shoulder.

“A little brute force wouldn’t go amiss.”

Nodding his understanding, he continued forward, feeling a familiar but neglected surge of power course through him.

His muscles bulged and expanded, rending the fabric of his shirt and ripping his leathers at the seams. His bones cracked, shifted, and realigned. Paws the size of hubcaps shredded the leather of his boots, leaving only scraps to trail behind him. His skin rippled as thick fur the color of midnight blanketed his body, the pelt absorbing the ambient light around him.

The transformation took only seconds, and when it was finished, he towered over the field, the top of the archway now at eye level. Every breath came as a harsh, deep rumble, and his powerful limbs crashed through the underbrush as he strode toward the entrance of the Whisper Woods.

Prepared to take back his mate by whatever means necessary.