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Getting close to men was easy. Coy glances. Trailing a fingertip along the edge of my chiton. Pretending that they were fascinating.
But I had saved none of my charm for Charon. No, I had bickered with him from the moment Hermes left. I even called him a bore.
Even though the psychopomp seemed determined to do nothing but stare off over the water and scowl, I shouldn’t have told him as such. But the man seemed to burrow under my skin in a way that others could not. I had grown hardened over the years; it took a great deal to vex me.
Like kidnapping me to the Underworld.
Or being so indifferent to existence you might as well be made of stone.
Now I needed to be close to Charon, the lump of stone himself. Close enough to slip my hand through the layers of his clothing and free him of his sack of obols without him noticing.
He never sat, never lounged. He simply stood there in the same attitude, stoic and frozen. I wanted to destroy that veneer, to take this empty shell of a being and crack him open until all the messy parts seeped out. There was no way in the realms that a being could be like this, not all the time.
Everyone had a weakness, something that would rattle them. It was only a matter of finding it.
I lowered myself to the deck of the boat, tucking my feet to the side. “How did you become a ferryman?”
Most people loved to talk about themselves. Not Charon. The Underworld was quiet except for the lap of the river against the ferry and rocky shore for what seemed like an eternity.
“I am the Ferryman.”
“Yes, I can see that.” I huffed. “But how did youbecomethe Ferryman? What did you do before? Where did you live?”
Those piercing eyes turned and raked over me. It was as if he was picking me apart rather than me being the one gleaning information.
“There was no before. Only this.”
I pursed my lips but remained silent. Charon shifted his grip on the push pole, leaning more of his weight on it. The fabric of his chlamys slipped away to reveal mottled blue, muscular forearms, honed from years of pushing the boat.
“There were the Titans. Then the gods. Then the mortals. When your kind came to exist, so did I. Someone needed to push the boat.”
“So you’ve always been here? The same as you are today?”
He looked down long enough for me to admire the length of his white eyelashes against his cheeks, then went back to staring across the shore. Boring he might be, but I couldn’t help but admit that he was beautiful in his own way.
“I was more alive then, at the beginning. Over the centuries, I’ve changed to hover somewhere between life and death, as is fitting of my position.”
“You seem particularly devoted to your work.”
“It’s what I am.”
“Have you ever wanted more?”
His gaze bore into me, but there… for the blink of an eye, he looked vulnerable. His throat bobbed, lips curving into each other slightly. He even shifted his weight.
Got you. Charon desired something. Perhaps I could entice him…
I rose to my feet and took one tenuous step towards him. “What is it you want, Charon?”
He watched me as if I were a snake coiled to strike, but didn’t retreat as I painstakingly crossed the distance between us.
This close, I had to crane my neck to keep his eyes on mine. I could feel the heat of his body; it seemed so at odds with his appearance. I expected him to be cold.
I pressed my hands to his chest, the move far more intimate than what I could usually do in the markets, but there was no one here to witness my transgression. Well, no one besides the wraiths, but they were too caught up in their own fates to notice mine.
I slid my palms along his chest and shoulders, getting him used to movement so that he wouldn’t notice the important ones. Gods, the smooth plans of muscle that I could feel under soft, folded fabric… Charon wasn’t a god, but he was built like one. Yet… there was an odd feeling on one side of his body, the same side as the sack of obols. It was ridged, with space between each raised line. Maybe he wore some kind of armor that I hadn’t spotted before. I would need to be cautious of that.
“Do you not tire of this? The same everyday…” I asked, my voice coated with honey. “Lonely?”
