“We don’t encourage visits without an invitation.”
I peer up into his hood, getting a flash of blue eyes. “Why not issue the invitation, then?”
“I’m not the one in charge.” He shrugs. “You’re safe enough now. If you need assistance, I can set you up in a temporary room, or if you’re looking to settle down properly, there are a couple places with availability.”
Just like that. It seems too easy. I blink. “I could be a complete monster and you’re just welcoming me with open arms?”
“Hardly.” He gives a tight smile. “Your story will be vetted. If you’ve lied, then I’ll truss you up and deliver you back across the river myself.”
“Oh.” I don’t even know what to say to that. I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by suspicious people and this stranger is acting against type. I narrow my eyes. “Are you a monster looking for a tasty bite and thinking I’m easy pickings?”
“No one who braves the trip across one of our bridges is easy pickings.” He turns and slides his hands into his pockets. “You coming or not?”
It happens so fast. One moment, I’m calculating what my chances of finding a hotel or something akin to that and the next this stranger is ushering me into a warm and inviting lobby. The person behind the reception desk is an East Asian woman with her long dark hair pulled back into a slick ponytail and wearing a slouchy sweater that I can only describe as a grandpa-style. She looks up as we come through the door with a bright smile. “Charon. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
He pushes back his hood, giving me my first good look at him. Handsome fucker. He’s got a jawline that looks like it would crush the fist of anyone who tries to punch him and a full head of dark hair. He grins at the front desk woman. “I heard you baked cookies, Sandra. You’ve been holding out on me.”
She blushes prettily. “Chocolate chip.”
“My favorite.” He motions to me. “I know you’ve got a vacancy and I have someone who can fill the slot. If she gives you any trouble, give me a call.”
I shoot him a sharp look. “I am not going to cause any problems. I’m just looking for a safe place to land on my feet.”
“We can make that happen.” She eyes me with interest, but to my surprise, doesn’t pepper me with the questions I can see lingering on her face. “We normally need first and last month, but since Charon brought you in, we can waive that.” She rattles off the details of the agreement. It’s cheaper than I expected, which makes me wonder about the state of the apartment.
But when Sandra leads us upstairs, Charon trailing behind and happily munching on his third cookie, I discover it’s utterly charming. And furnished, which is something I hadn’t really thought to consider in the midst of all this.
It’s about half the size of the apartment Odysseus set me up in, an open space with only the bathroom blocked off. The bedroom is separated from the rest of the loft by a floral folding screen that looks hand painted.
There are dozens of little touches like that around the space. A mirror with what appears to be a hand-carved frame. A crocheted throw blanket folded over the back of a thread-worn chair. Through the glass doors in the kitchen cabinet, I can see a bunch of mismatched dishes and cups, but they’re all in coordinating colors. Someone put a lot of love and care into decorating this place. “It’s lovely. I’ll take it.”
Sandra smiles. “Perfect. I’ll go grab the paperwork.”
The second the door closes behind her, Charon turns to me. “Like I said, I’ll be checking out your story and verifying the details.” He scrubs a hand through his dark hair. “But if you run into any sort of trouble, call me.” He fishes a card out of his pocket and hands it over.
It’s a plain black card with his name and a phone number and nothing else. I raise my brows. “Very mysterious of you.”
“I’m a mysterious guy.” Anyone else saying such an absurd sentence would try to put a flirtatious edge on it. Not Charon. He says it with the utmost seriousness.
I don’t know what to think of that.
Honestly, I haven’t begun to process the events of the evening, from Medusa’s appearance in my apartment to fleeing across the River Styx and receiving a strangely warm welcome. “Do you monitor everyone who crosses the bridges?”
“Not personally.” He shrugs. “There isn’t much traffic to speak of, so it’s hardly a full-time job. I just happened to be in the area tonight and got notified of your crossing.”
Based on what he’s said, this man has some power but he’s not the one in charge. Which begs the question of who is in charge in the lower city. I tuck the question away. I’ll have plenty of time to indulge my curiosity later. And it will only be curiosity. I have enough money that I never have to depend on another person again.