Page 9 of Definitely Dead (Happily Ever Afterlife #1)

Chapter nine

S unne came awake with a gasp, the remnants of a dream still clinging to the fringes of his mind.

While all his dreams these days tended to leave him vaguely unsettled, this might have been the most disturbing one yet. In it, he had been standing in a stone courtyard beneath a full moon, a thick book with frail, yellowed pages clutched between his hands.

Across from him, bound in a circle of runes and candlelight, there had been a cloaked figure. Though he hadn’t been able to make out the face, he had felt the rage radiating from beneath the robes.

After that, the details became a little murky. He remembered that they had struck a deal. For power, maybe? Magic? Whatever it was, it had come with an underlying sense of something dangerous and forbidden. Something he wasn’t supposed to have.

“It was just a dream,” he reminded himself, speaking the words out loud to ground himself in reality.

Sitting up in the bed, he rubbed his eyes, then stretched his arms over his head with a quiet groan. His exhaustion must have finally caught up with him because he didn’t even remember falling asleep. Worse, he didn’t remember making it home.

No, not home. Not the apartment he shared with Tyr. He was at Orrin’s castle, which explained why the mattress beneath him felt…wrong.

Tossing back the blankets, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and spent a few seconds contemplating if he really wanted to get up. Eventually, his demanding bladder won out, and he pushed to his feet and went in search of a bathroom.

He found the door to the en suite on the other side of the room, the doorway illuminated by white light that invited him across the threshold. Shuffling across the cold tiles, he lowered his head and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness.

While he had never been inside a castle before, he had expected it to be a little more luxurious, or maybe charmingly rustic in a historical kind of way. In actuality, the bathroom was pretty normal.

While it had the basics—a toilet tucked away in the corner across from a standard shower, and an unframed oval mirror over a pedestal sink—it lacked that extra touch. In fact, it reminded him of the bathroom in his tiny studio apartment back in Louisiana.

Once he had relieved himself, he stumbled toward the sink, his eyes heavy, and his brain still foggy from sleep. Reaching for the tap, he glanced up, curious if the dark circles under his eyes had improved with rest.

And his entire world ground to a screeching halt.

On the bright side, the deep purple lines had definitely vanished, but only because the face staring back from the mirror didn’t belong to him. Eyes the color of spring grass widened, and a face round from youth slackened with shock. Though he knew he controlled the expression, he still couldn’t process what he was seeing.

“What the hell?”

He clapped a hand over his mouth, his heart racing as his adrenaline spiked. Yes, he had spoken the words, but the voice that had come out of his mouth didn’t belong to him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, tangling his fingers in his shaggy curls as he spun away from the mirror. “This is not happening. It’s just a dream.” His vision blurred, and blood roared in his ears as he gasped for every breath. “I’m dreaming. It’s just a dream. This isn’t real.”

It felt pretty goddamn real, though. Even if he had no explanation for why he was wearing Aster’s face like a Halloween mask.

Maybe his mind had finally cracked from the strain of too many sleepless nights. If not a dream, perhaps he had descended into waking hallucinations.

Turning back to the mirror, he gripped the edges of the sink and screwed his eyes closed. Then he took several deep breaths before forcing them open again. Aster’s face still stared back at him, the expression a mixture of shock and horror.

“This is fine,” he told the reflection. “Totally fine. No need to panic.” He was absolutely panicking. “It’s just a little bodysnatching. I can fix this.”

But he couldn’t do it on his own. He needed help, the magical kind, because he didn’t even know how to start unraveling this. He also needed to find his mate…and his body.

“Oh, shit.”

The idea of Aster strutting around the village, cosplaying as him, made his hands shake and his stomach churn. He didn’t even want to think about what the guy was doing while pretending to be him.

No, this kind of stuff didn’t happen in real life. Right? It was probably just a glamour spell, an illusion to make him look like Aster. They hadn’t actually switched bodies because that would be insane.

And pointless.

Sunne didn’t have any powers or influence. What could the witch possibly hope to accomplish by trading places with him?

He didn’t know, and moreover, answers would have to wait. Right then, he needed to find Tyr. Maybe Orrin. Probably an exorcist.

In the doorway of the en suite, he paused, realization finally sinking in that this wasn’t a spare room in the castle. Rather, he was inside Aster’s apartment at the Tower. He recognized a pair of the witch’s boots in the open closet and the jacket hanging on the back of the bedroom door.

Otherwise, it appeared completely mundane. No candles, spellbooks, or runes scribbled on the floors and walls. Nothing that would suggest the witch had been plotting against him this whole time.

Striding down a short, narrow hallway, he came to the main part of the unit. Utilitarian in design, with sterile white walls and sad gray tiles, only a single beige sofa and a rickety coffee table occupied the room. A postage-stamp-sized kitchen took up the back wall, comprised of a tiny stove and an outdated refrigerator that appeared to be held together by magic and hope.

Tyr had tried to tell him. He had tried to explain that most apartments in the Tower looked and functioned like this one. Sunne hadn’t believed him. To do so would have meant accepting that something about him was different, special, and he could more easily believe in bodysnatching than he could that.

Debating whether he should search the closets before leaving, he jerked back, stumbling several steps, when three loud bangs rattled the front door.

“Aster, open this fucking door!”

Despite the ire dripping from every word, relief flooded him at the sound of the familiar voice. He rushed to the door and jerked it open, ridiculously happy to be standing face to face with over six and a half feet of enraged shifter.

“Tyr, something happened. I don’t—”

His words came to an abrupt halt when long fingers closed around his throat and slammed him against the wall beside the doorframe.

“What do you want with Sunne?” he demanded, his eyes dark with anger.

“Tyr, it’s me,” he screamed through their bond, grabbing his mate’s wrist while his toes groped for purchase on the floor. “It’s me. Sunne.”

The shifter pulled him forward by the throat, then slammed him against the wall again. “You did something to him. You’ve been fucking with his head for weeks. Why?”

“Tyr!” he gasped aloud. “Tyr, it’s really me. It’s Sunne. I don’t know how, but I swear it’s me.”

“Bullshit,” his mate snarled back. “I just left Sunne with Orrin.”

He tried to shake his head, but the hand on his throat kept him immobile. “You left Aster with Orrin. You have to believe me. He switched us.”

“You’re lying.”

But Sunne could see the flash of doubt in his mate’s eyes, and he felt the fingers loosen around his neck. A small crack in his certainty, but it was enough.

“Can you hear me?” he asked, trying to reach him through their mating bond again.

He was met with deafening silence. Something was blocking him, cutting off his connection to his mate. Even without evidence, he could feel it, an empty ache inside him where something important should have been.

He didn’t have time to mourn the loss, though, not when he needed to find some way to plead his case. Talking about himself wouldn’t prove anything, and he doubted it would convince the Guardian. So, he searched deeper, grasping for something that only the two of them would know.

“Our first kiss was by the river.” Even if Aster or someone else had witnessed the moment through a clouded window, they wouldn’t have known it was their first. “It’s also where you told me I can’t save everyone, which I’m still kind of annoyed about. You make it sound like I’m out here trying to be Captain Save a Soul, when really, I just wanted a fucking sign at the pier.”

The hand on his throat vanished, and he suddenly found himself enveloped in a pair of strong, muscular arms.

Sighing, he burrowed into Tyr’s embrace, letting the warmth and comfort soothe his frazzled nerves. “Was it the kiss or the Captain Save a Soul that convinced you?”

Tyr’s whole body vibrated with his laughter. “As soon as this is over, I promise we’ll put up a sign.”

But first, they needed to find Aster.

“We need to go. I really don’t want to think about what that asshole is doing with my body.” Pulling away, he tilted his head back and glared up at his mate. “You didn’t kiss him, did you?”

With a snort, Tyr grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him toward the open doorway. “No, I didn’t kiss him.”

“Well, you can’t kiss me either. Not while I’m in this body.” He shuddered. “Gross.”

“Duly noted. Can we go now?”

They jogged out of the unit and down the corridor to the bank of elevators, Sunne lengthening his strides to keep pace with his mate. Taking the lift didn’t have the same gravitas or urgency as charging down seventy-seven flights of stairs, but it was certainly more practical.

Besides, the Tower didn’t even have stairs.

The gold-plated doors slid closed behind them when they entered the cab, then immediately opened again with a clear view of the lobby. Sometimes, he really loved magic.

“Thanks,” he said, patting the wall fondly before hurrying after Tyr.

Outside, the shifter pivoted to the right, choosing the most expedient path instead of following the winding cobbled road. Sunne turned on a burst of speed but still struggled to keep up as his feet sank into the loose sand.

They had just cleared the edge of the village when Tyr came to an abrupt stop. Lagging behind, Sunne didn’t immediately understand why until Tyr shifted his weight to the side, giving him a clear view of the figure standing in front of him.

“Sunne is gone,” Orrin said, his voice strung tight with anxiety.

“What the hell do you mean he’s gone?” Tyr demanded, taking a threatening step forward.

Orrin didn’t retreat, and he didn’t try to placate either. “I mean he’s gone. When we arrived at the castle, he wasn’t with me.” A quiet, understated growl filled with annoyance spilled from the prince’s lips. “Rune and Sindri are out looking for him now.”

“That’s not Sunne.” Reaching behind him, Tyr took hold of his arm and dragged him forward. “This is Sunne.”

He lifted his hand and offered a little wave. “Hi.”

Orrin cocked his head, his brow creased, and a mask of total bafflement etched into the lines of his face. A valid response, but he didn’t know where to begin explaining the situation he’d found himself in.

“They soul shifted?”

Sunne blinked at the prince. “Is that a thing? Like, this has happened before?”

“Not here.”

Oh, good. He wouldn’t want this to be easy or anything. “So, how do we shift our souls back?”

“We need to find Aster.”

Yeah, no shit. He had kind of worked that much out for himself. “Where would he go? What is he even trying to do?”

No one, it seemed, had an answer.

“We’ll find him,” Orrin assured. “He can’t have gotten far, and there are only so many places to hide in the village.”

“Unless he’s not in the village.” Dread turned his veins to ice as he stared out over the river at the bottom of the hill.

Tyr immediately started shaking his head. “No. No, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t cross.”

Only he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Sunne.

Taking Tyr’s wrist, he gave it a comforting squeeze, but he addressed the prince when he spoke. “Is there a way we can know for sure? Someone we can ask?”

Orrin dipped his head, and in the next instant, Sunne found himself standing on the rickety pier, Tyr’s arm still clutched in his hand. Then, before he could even shake off the disorientation, a longboat appeared from the darkness, gliding silently over the surface of the water.

It came to a smooth stop beside the dock, a shadowed, hooded figure at its helm.

“Did you ferry a soul across the river just now?” Orrin asked, his tone surprisingly conversational, all things considered.

“I am bound by the laws of Hades to ferry the dead to their eternal resting place,” the figure answered, his tone deep, hollow, and ringing.

Tyr growled. “Knock it off, asshole. I don’t have time for your community theater. Just answer the fucking question.”

Sunne held his breath when the cloaked male reached for his hood and slid it back from his face, but the reveal ended up being pretty anticlimactic. Rather than a skull or a twisted visage, he found himself staring into a pair of bright amber eyes that twinkled with mischief.

Wearing a disarming smile, the ferryman ran a hand through his blond hair in a futile attempt to tame the wild curls. “Chill, man.”

“Charon.”

“Fine, yes, I took a kid across the river. What’s the big deal?”

Damn, this place just kept getting weirder. Sunne had expected Charon, the fabled ferryman of the dead, to be…well, not this. The guy looked and spoke more like he should be crushing beer cans against his forehead at a fraternity kegger.

“What did he look like?” he asked, stepping around Tyr.

Charon shrugged. “Young. Dark hair.” His smile stretched a little wider. “Pretty eyes, but kind of a dick.”

Aw, he thought Sunne had pretty eyes? That was nice. The dick part, not so much.

“Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“Did he give a name?” Orrin asked, ever the practical one.

The ferryman bobbed his head. “Asher? Usher? I don’t know. Something like that.”

Tyr didn’t even wait for him to finish speaking before stepping off the dock and into the boat. The craft didn’t rock or sway. It didn’t even sink deeper into the water under his weight.

“Come, lelien .” He held his hand out, urging Sunne into the longboat with him.

Gripping one of the splintered posts, Orrin shook his head. “Are you sure you want to do this? You know the laws.”

“Fuck the laws,” he growled back. “I’m going to get my mate.”

Sunne glanced between them, his pulse racing at the tension simmering beneath their words. “What laws? Tyr, what is he talking about?”

“Your knight in shining rage bear isn’t allowed to cross the river,” Charon answered with a cheery smile. “Big no no. Zero stars. Would not recommend.”

“What will happen if you cross?” he demanded.

Tyr didn’t offer him platitudes or white lies about how everything would work out. Instead, he tugged on Sunne’s hand, pulling him into the boat and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“What will happen if I don’t?”

Sunne knew he couldn’t do this on his own, and he really didn’t want to be stuck in Aster’s body for the rest of eternity. He also had a little voice in the back of his head whispering that this wasn’t over. The real reason Aster had switched places with him had yet to reveal itself, and that thought alone terrified him.

Still, he couldn’t ask Tyr to risk everything for him.

“Maybe there’s another way.”

“Maybe, but there’s no time.”

“But Hades—”

“Will get over it,” Tyr interrupted. His eyes softened, and he reached up to cup Sunne’s cheek in his big hand. “You would do it for me.”

Without hesitation. Without claws or fangs or magic. If someone had taken Tyr from him, he’d wage wars to find him and bring him home.

“Then let’s go get my body back and make that little witch pay.”

His mate chuckled and cuffed him gently on the side of the head. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

“I’m coming with you.” Orrin lifted the hem of his robes and prepared to enter the boat.

“No,” Tyr and Sunne barked in unison.

Sunne appreciated the prince’s willingness, but he wouldn’t put anyone else in danger. Not for him.

Tyr, however, had other reasons for keeping the prince on that side of the river. “I need you to get a message to Hades. Let him know what happened.”

Taking a step back, Orrin dropped his robes and answered with a sharp nod. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, we’re breaking all the rules.” Charon laughed and rubbed his hands together. “I knew I liked you guys.”

Tyr rolled his eyes and shoved the guy toward the back of the boat. “Just go.”

“Lighten up, my dude.” He held his hands up in a pacifying gesture when Tyr snarled at him. “Fine. I’m going. I’m going.”

Without warning, the boat slid away from the pier and started gliding back across the river. There was no sound, and no waves broke against the hull. In fact, if Sunne hadn’t seen the shoreline shrinking in the distance, he wouldn’t have guessed they were moving at all.

Disembodied souls floated past, their eerie glow the only light that illuminated the way as they crossed the River Acheron. And as the pier disappeared behind them, swallowed by the darkness, Sunne felt something shift inside him, something cold and penetrating.

His vision blurred, and a high-pitched hum rang in his ears. Aching pressure built in his temples, then a wave of dizziness washed over him, forcing him to grab onto Tyr’s arm or risk toppling over the edge of the boat.

“What’s wrong?” Tyr demanded, holding him upright with steady hands. “Lelien , what is it?”

“I don’t know.” Shaking his head to clear the fog, he stared up at Tyr, his body taut with anxiety. “Something’s happening.” He could feel another consciousness pressing at him from all sides, creeping, slithering, searching for a way inside. “I think…we’re changing back.”