There were more Dead, and more, and soon the cousins realized that they were at the center of a great crowd of them, that the crowd was reaching toward them, pushing toward them, trying to get a glimpse of Life. The Dead were everywhere. They crowded, thicker and thicker, until they became indistinct from one another. The Dead were the air, and the air was the Dead, and the cousins were surrounded. Never had Charlotte been so cold.
"How do we… how do we tell them apart?" Zee asked quietly.
"I don't know," Charlotte whispered, casting a glance at him. He looked overwhelmed, strangely desperate, and achingly sad. Charlotte had an urge to put her arm around him and lead him away from all this, but she could not. And she knew, anyway, that right now he would not go. And maybe now, with the world at stake, she wouldn't go either. Yes, Charlotte Mielswetzski was going to try harder. Though, right now, she would rather not meet new people.
"Do you think we can talk to them?" Zee asked. "Maybe they can help us."
Charlotte shook her head. "I have no idea," she whispered. She was sort of hoping the answer was no.
Zee turned his head a little toward one part of the crowd. Sucking his breath in, he took a step toward them. "Um… hello?"
A great shudder seemed to pass through the Dead, and Zee shuddered in concert. Charlotte hung back, hugging herself tightly.
"Hello?" Zee said again, nearly in a whisper. The Dead trembled, but they did not respond. "Uh… can you talk?"
Nothing.
"Hello?" he whispered. He kept getting quieter and quieter, and soon it seemed he would not be able to make any sound at all. He looked around desperately, and Charlotte caught a glimpse of tears in his eyes. She inhaled and, taking a step toward him, put her hand gently on his arm.
"Your grandma wouldn't be here, you know," she said softly. "She'd be on the other side."
Zee turned his gaze from the Dead toward Charlotte. He sighed and nodded slowly. "We better just keep moving," he said. "Come on." He tugged at her arm, and they went, through the light, through the Dead, toward the Styx.
They climbed their way through the craggy Outer Banks, now ignoring the great fog of Dead that huddled around them. The rocks grew and grew, and great cliffs rose from the landscape ahead of them. They reached a small passageway in the cliffs, exchanged a glance, and stepped in. At that point the Dead stopped following them, and Charlotte tried not to wonder why. Was it worse to have the Dead following you, or for them not to want to go where you were going?
Zee seemed to have calmed a little; he was looking ahead, not back, and he'd stopped trembling. Charlotte understood. They couldn't talk to the Dead, they couldn't think about his grandmother, they couldn't focus on the task ahead of them (for they had no idea what they were supposed to do), all they could do was keep walking.
Slowly they began to hear noises again, strange to their ears after all the deathly quiet. They could hear distant, scratchy, sing-songy voices that sounded all too much like the Harpies for Charlotte's taste. From somewhere far away came a few sudden cries, which exploded, then were extinguished-whether from an animal or a human, Charlotte could not tell. As they passed deeper into the rock passage, a twittering began to accompany them, a hollow whistle that sounded like the death of spring. Charlotte looked up and saw what seemed to be the skeletons of small birds flying above their heads. She inhaled sharply. There were small holes in the rock face, and little bird skulls were peering out from them here and there. Some skeletal bodies sprang from the rock and joined the pack. The songs multiplied; the pack of birds thickened. There were more and then more, and soon Charlotte's ears were ready to burst with all the sound. There were packs, droves, and as Charlotte looked up to see the sky darkening with them, the bird skeletons looked down and noticed her. One came swooping down from the sky, then another, then the whole pack of the deathly creatures dived right toward Charlotte and Zee. Charlotte screamed, and the cousins covered their eyes with their hands as they dropped to the ground. They felt the birds coming closer, closer, barreling right toward them, until, as one, they turned and flew off through the passageway. While Charlotte and Zee crouched on the ground, a group passed inches from their heads, bone wings making strange creaking noises in the air.
And then they were gone, they had flown off into the distance, and the cousins got up, trembling, and walked forward again. Soon all other sounds became drowned out by the rushing of the river- strong, fierce, and near.
They emerged to find themselves on flat land. In front of them stood a smaller white boulder, and up ahead in the distance flowed the waters of the Styx, which were-Charlotte's eyes had not been deceiving her-in fact, steaming. Well. They were certainly not going to swim across. Charlotte was eyeing the river nervously when suddenly she heard a strangled noise come from Zee.
"Charlotte! Look up!" He had turned around and was pointing to the top of the cliff they had just passed through.
A man was chained to the cliff, a shirtless man dangling against the rock face, with blood all over his stomach. Three Harpies were circling around his head. And even though she could not really see his face, Charlotte knew.
"Mr. Metos!" she exclaimed.
"Oh my god," said Zee.
"Oh my god," said Charlotte. She cupped her hands and shouted, "Mr. Metos? We're here! We came!"
The man started and looked down. His eyes popped. "What are you doing here?" he yelled fiercely.
Charlotte and Zee exchanged a glance. "We got your message!"
"I didn't send you a message! I told you the last thing we wanted was for you to be down here. Do you think I'd then send you a message telling you to come down here?"
Charlotte stumbled back. "You didn't send the message?"
"No," said a silky voice behind them. "I did."
CHAPTER 20
THE COUSINS WHIRLED AROUND. A MAN WAS STRIDING toward them, or something like a man-really, he was too tall to be a man, and, frankly, too evil looking. He wore a black tuxedo topped with a white cravat and had a black cape. Black, spiky hair framed a thin, cruel gray face, and red eyes matched red lips that seemed to stretch on for miles. The lips smiled; large, bony hands clapped; and a voice oozed, "Hello, my sweets!"
Mr. Metos bellowed, "Run!"
No need to tell them twice. Charlotte and Zee turned and ran-in their minds they traveled back through the passage, back through the fog of Dead, back through the rocks and the cave, through the endless tunnel, through the very plain door, through the Mall, on the bus, and back home.
But in reality they made it about three steps. The man's voice sang out, "Oh, lads?" and just like that, the Footmen appeared from the shadows. Two, four, six… twelve of them surrounded Charlotte and Zee in a perfect circle. The cousins looked around wildly, but there was nowhere to go.
Oh, they were hideous. It was one thing to see two of them hovering over you in a neighborhood street-okay, that was a big thing, but still-it was quite another to see twelve of them surrounding you in the rocky plains of the Stygian banks, their lips cracking, their yellow eyes glowing, their white faces flickering in the strange, unsteady light of the Underworld. Charlotte and Zee drew toward each other and grabbed hands. Zee urgently whispered something to Charlotte, but she could not hear over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She shook her head at him, and he whispered again, "If I can-"
But Philonecron loudly cleared his throat, then with a flourish of his cape the demon-like man glided into the circle next to Charlotte and Zee, and Charlotte could not catch the rest of Zee's words.
"I've been so rude! I haven't introduced myself," the demon-like man said. "I am Philonecron." He bowed deeply and then surveyed them, smiling strangely. "Oh my darlings, I'm so glad you are here!" he enthused. "It's been quite a challenge to get you down here, you know. I tried kidnapping, I tried seducing you through your dreams…" He clucked, staring at Zee. "Fortunately, when your meddling friend came down here"-he pointed up at Mr. Metos-"it gave me an idea."