Chapter Nine:

"No matter how many times you give me those doe-eyes, it won't change my mind about which line you belong in," I said as the girl scowled, stomping away and I sighed, collapsing against the wall. Twelve in one hour. That had to be some sort of record, but I wasn't allowed to relax yet because I still had to get my butt to Portland in time for lunch with my parents.

My parents.

I cringed, knowing they were going to ask questions I wasn't prepared to answer, like 'what are you doing to keep yourself busy these days?' and 'why haven't you called in the past month? Did you forget to pay your cellphone bill?'. I was going to have to make up an excuse again and hope they didn't see straight through the lie.

So. Many. Lies. Lately.

"You can't get attached, no matter how much you might want to."

I stood as Hades rounded the corner, hands tucked into his pockets, and felt a furious blush creep across my cheeks. "If I caved every time a soul begged me to change my mind, I'd never be able to do my job effectively."

"It's not always so easy. When they tell me a particularly sad story about their life, a small part of me wants to give them a second chance at their afterlife, you know? Everyone makes mistakes, right?"

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll never know what that's like, to have one chance to do the best I can with the life I was given. It's such a human thing, and I'm not human."

"Yes, I know, you tell me this like I'm going to forget. Speaking of 'human', though, what are these frequent back-and-forth trips doing to me?"

"I don't understand the question, and I'm not sure I want to."

I rolled up a sleeve, running my hand across the smooth, pale skin. "Three hours ago, I accidentally stabbed myself with a pair of scissors when I was trying to open a new bag of dog food, and now there's barely a mark there."

"I wish you'd take better care of yourself, Emma."

"You're missing the point. Why do I suddenly have super healing abilities?"

"You're in the land of the dead, which means the rules governing living things is a little different than they would be on earth. Persephone's gardens, for example, only stay in their perfect, healthy state because she wills them to. Or did - now that falls to Demeter and you, I suppose, if you wanted that responsibility."

"Don't you think that might be something you should've mentioned before I came down here?"

He smiled, eyes dancing. "Oh, I'm sorry; here I thought that being nearly invincible to harm was a good thing. My bad."

"I resent being treated like a pack mule." A man appeared, tapping his heels together as iridescent wings retracted into his shoes. "I do have things to do with my day, you know, and in case it escaped your notice, Yule is almost upon us, which means that every Olympian worth their salt will expect a dinner invitation. That's a lot of traveling, Hades!"

Hades cleared his throat and the man glanced over me with hunter-green eyes, did a double-take, and bowed low. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? The name is Hermes, messenger of the gods, and brother to this miserable little git. You're Emma, right?"

"You're throwing a dinner party? And you didn't think to invite me?" I asked Hades, feeling a tad bit miffed. It wasn't like I expected to be welcomed with open arms at his family gatherings, but considering recent information, the oversight on his part stung. "I mean, you don't have to, of course, because I'll probably be with my family then anyways but, hang on, did you wait until I wanted to go home to throw this shindig? That's not nice, Hades!"

He held up his hands in supplication. "You haven't seen your family in over six weeks. I figured you wanted to catch up; let them know you're alright. Was I wrong?"

"You could decide not to get rid of me every time someone visits, like you're ashamed I exist."

"It's for your own protection, not because I don't want to be seen with you. Don't be ridiculous."

"Protection? From what?"

"My family, obviously," he said, eyes flashing. "You've never been around that many gods and goddesses in one place, and they're not accustomed to having a flesh and blood mortal amongst them. Things could turn...ugly."

"Or you could trust me a little more, Hades. I don't have a death wish, alright? I understand the risks, but I've handled you, Persephone, Poseidon and Hermes here just fine, not to mention hundreds of souls."

"You could show a little more gratitude that Hermes is willing to take you to Portland at all," he spat, rubbing a hand across his face. "Emma, I don't want to spend our remaining time together today arguing, so can you please just drop this?"

"I'm sorry for being so rude," I said to Hermes, who turned to me, amused. "If you wouldn't mind taking me to Portland, that would be greatly appreciated. And, um, if you slipped me a little invite while you're at it, I wouldn't object to that, either."

"Emma!"

I whirled on Hades, finger in his face. "You have got to stop dictating what you think is best for me. I'm a big girl, and I make my own decisions. Plus, I need to run into Hera again. I have more questions for her."

"Oh, come on, brother. Let the girl have a bit of fun for once," Hermes said, draping an arm around my shoulders. I gazed back at Hades, waiting.

He sighed eventually, shaking his head side to side. "I'll let you come to one party, and then the subject is dropped until further notice. Agreed?"

"Thank you. See? That wasn't so hard, was it? And next year, I fully expect an invite at least a week in advance, so I can clear my schedule and ohmygod," I said, brain screaming to a halt. "One party. As in, there are others? Others that you've had and I haven't been invited to, or begged my way onto the guest list?"

Hades, for his part, looked unabashedly defiant, jaw set, as I glared back. "I see. In that case, expect me to stay away a little longer next time, purely out of spite. I'm ready to leave, Hermes."

Hermes stepped up to me, laughing. "It's good to see you've finally met someone who sees your fiery temper, and can match it, brother, but I wouldn't underestimate Emma again. Toodles." He held out a hand for me and I took it, bending over to scoop Bailey up, pressing her to my chest as the world spun around us.

***

Portland, Oregon

"So, I'm not allowed to ask why we're tip-toeing through a cemetery, and you're not allowed to tell me, even if I ask. Did I get that right?"

"It's better this way, Sam. I don't know what would happen otherwise." I handed him a flashlight as I took my own, reaching into my coat pocket to lock the car. "I'm sorry to hijack our first date, but I'll try to make it up to you. Stay near me, okay?"

"This is so weird," he whispered and I smiled, scanning the tombstones.

"If I told you what we were doing, would you have come with me? Be honest."

"No. Instead, I'd be checking you into the nearest mental institution. I'm still tempted to do that, by the way."

"We're looking for one name in particular, Margaret Atoll. Freshly dug grave and - ahh!" My right foot sank into squidgy earth calf-height, and I struggled to free myself, using the slab of granite in front of me for leverage. "Found her."

"Do you do this often?" He asked as he reached down to help me.

A wispy shape began to form next to me, bits of soul arranging themselves into the shape of a woman, flowered shirt torn and flapping in a non-existent breeze.

"This in particular? No. First time for everything though, right?"

He yanked me free from the dirt, and I pulled my shoes and socks off.

"I found the grave, I'm dirty from head to toe, so now what?" I addressed the woman directly and saw Sam glance over at me, confused.

"Dig." Her voice, like bell tones through cotton balls, whispered across my skin and I looked around for something to use. The utility shed was locked, and the only things I had on me were keys, flashlight, and some bendy straws that I stole from the restaurant where we'd had dinner. None of those would work, so what - oh hell no.

"If you want it so damned bad, get it yourself, but I refuse to hand-dig your grave. I have to draw the line somewhere, okay? Besides, it would take all night, and this is a nice outfit."

"You promised you would help. Are you saying your word means nothing?"

Well, hell, I did.

"Emma? I hate to state the obvious here, but you're talking to yourself, and it's slightly creeping me out." Sam edged towards the street, and I lay a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Please stay. I know this is super weird, and after I'm done, we'll go somewhere else, have a cup of hot cocoa, and I'll try to explain why I did this. But in the meantime, I need you to watch the street in case any police cars come, okay? Thanks," I said, dropping to my knees.

He looked back at me, appalled, as I shoveled handfuls of mud to the side, earthworms wriggling through my fingers, then down the street, arms crossed over his chest.

It was absolutely disgusting work, and my muscles started to scream at me in five different languages as I dug furiously, Margaret pacing back and forth behind me.

"So, I had fun tonight," I said, leaning my head against the pit long hours later, rubbing my hands over my equally stained pants, and Sam rolled his eyes sideways at me. "I mean, I'm standing in an open grave, on top of a coffin, but everything before this was lovely."

"What are you going to do with the b-bod-" he choked on the words, gesturing into the pit.

"Oh, I'm going to search it. Duh."

"So, you're a grave robber."

Oh, Sam. It wasn't an accusation, not really, and I pivoted, leaning over to pry the lid off the coffin.

"Can you shine your light down here a minute?"

"This is highly illegal, Emma."

"First of all, I can't argue against that, but this freaks me out, too, and I didn't have a choice. Secondly, as soon as I finish here, I'll never ever have to do anything like it again and third, well, you said you wanted adventure. Ta-da!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "When I said that, I was thinking more along the lines of running naked through a fountain, or driving out of town and seeing how far we got before turning around. Not disturbing someone's grave."

"Look, Sam," I said, rifling through Margaret's pockets. "If you wanted to go out with someone completely normal, then I'm the wrong gal for you. Found it." I held up a scrap of paper, and Margaret leaned over me.

"Read it to me, please," she said.

"You'll move on if I do this?"

"I promise. Now, read."

"'Margaret, I'm sorry about what I said to you the night you died. I didn't mean any of it. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. I was frustrated, angry, and I took it all out on you. I'm so sorry. You tried to comfort me when I needed it the most, and I lashed out at you. When you left home, it felt like a piece of me died, too, and I would give anything to re-live the moment; do things differently. I blame myself for the car accident, and I can't begin to imagine how alone you must've felt in that moment. I'm so very, very sorry, and I'll love you forever. Richard.'"

"I was crying so hard that I didn't see the semi-truck that veered into my lane," Margaret said softly, looking down at the note. "He shut me out for months, and every time I tried to get close and talk about what was bothering him, he left the room. Thank you for doing this for me, Emma. I'm okay now."

"That's the saddest thing I've heard in a long time," Sam said. "Also, is it worth it to ask who you're talking to?"

Margaret's spirit faded, and I sighed, closing the coffin lid as I scrambled out of the pit.

What do I have to lose at this point? He already saw me dig up a grave, pick-pocket the corpse, and talk to myself.

"Her spirit. Let me cover up her grave a little, and then I'd love to get some food because I'm starving."