He thought back to the proverb hanging in the tea shop. Hugo must have been thinking the same thing as he handed Wallace the cup and said, “It’s your second.”

  Honored guest.

  Wallace swallowed thickly as he took the cup from Hugo. It wasn’t lost on him that this was the closest they could ever get to touching. He felt Hugo’s gaze on him as they both held the cup longer than was necessary. Eventually, Hugo dropped his hand.

  The water was still clear, though the brown tinge had given way to a green closer to the color of the leaf. He brought it to his lips and sipped.

  He gagged, the tea sliding down his throat and blooming hotly in his stomach. It was bitter, yes, and then the grass hit and it tasted like he’d eaten half a lawn. The honey afternote was there, but the sweetness was lost by the fact that Wallace hated everything about it. “Holy crap,” he said, wiping his mouth as Hugo took the teacup back. “That’s terrible. Who the hell would drink that willingly?”

  He watched as Hugo brought the cup to his own lips. He grimaced as his throat worked. “Yeah,” he said, pulling the cup away. “Just because I love tea doesn’t mean I love every kind of tea.” He smacked his lips. “Ah. There’s the honey. Almost worth it.”

  “Have you ever been wrong picking out a tea?”

  “For people who come in here alive? Yes.”

  “But not the dead.”

  “Not the dead,” Hugo agreed.

  “That’s … remarkable. Bizarre, but remarkable.”

  “Was that another compliment, Wallace?”

  “Uh, sure?” Wallace said, suddenly uncomfortable. He was standing closer to Hugo than he realized. He cleared his throat as he took a step back. “Man, that taste doesn’t leave.”

  Hugo chuckled. “Sticks with you. I liked yours much better.”

  That shouldn’t have made Wallace as happy as it did. “Was that a compliment, Hugo?”

  “It was,” Hugo said simply.

  Wallace took those two words and held them close, the bitterness he felt no match against the sweet of the aftertaste.

  Hugo pulled out more leaves from the jar, setting them on a small plate next to the teapot and cups. “There. How does it look?”

  “Like you went outside and picked up the first thing you found on the ground.”

  “Perfect,” Hugo said cheerfully. “That means we—”

  At the front of the shop, the clock stuttered loudly and then stopped, the second hand twitching.

  “They’re here,” Hugo said.

  Wallace wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. “Should I just…” He waved his hand in explanation.

  “You can come out with me if you’d like,” Hugo said, picking up the tray. “Though, I ask that you let me handle him or any questions he may have. If he talks to you, you can respond, but do so evenly and calmly. We don’t want him to be any more agitated than he already might be.”

  “You’re worried,” Wallace said. He didn’t know how he’d missed the tightness around Hugo’s eyes, the way his hands gripped the tray. “Why?”

  Hugo hesitated. Then, “Death isn’t always swift. I know you don’t think so, but you were lucky. It’s not like that for everyone. Sometimes, it’s violent and shocking, and it follows you. Some are devastated, some are furious, and some … some let it become all they know. We get people like that more than you’d think, if you can believe that.”

  He could. He thought he knew what Hugo was implying, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. The world could be beautiful—and it showed on the walls of the tea shop with the pyramids and castles and waterfalls that seemed to drop from the greatest heights—but it was also brutal and dark.

  Hugo looked toward the kitchen doors. “They’re coming up the road. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” Wallace said immediately, and he had to fight the urge to block Hugo from leaving the kitchen. He didn’t know what was coming, but he didn’t like the sound of it.

  “Good,” Hugo said. “Watch. Listen. I’m counting on you, Wallace.”

  He walked through the doors, leaving Wallace to stare after him.

  CHAPTER

  14

  Wallace paused in the doorway, frowning. The lights were on as normal, but they seemed … dimmer, as if the bulbs had been changed. Apollo whined, ears drooping as Nelson rubbed his head soothingly. “It’s okay,” Nelson said quietly. “It’ll be all right.”

  Hugo had set the tea on one of the high-top tables, though it wasn’t the same one he’d used for Wallace’s arrival. Wallace went over to Nelson and Apollo, leaving Hugo to stand next to the table, hands clasped behind him.

  He was different, now, even just standing there. It was subtle, and if Wallace hadn’t been watching Hugo since he arrived, he might not have noticed it. But he had, and he catalogued all the little changes. It was in the set of Hugo’s shoulders, the way his expression was carefully blank, though not disinterested. Wallace thought back to his own arrival, wondering if this was how Hugo had been then.

  He tore his gaze away, looking around the room, trying to focus on something, anything, that would distract him. “What’s wrong with the lights?” he asked Nelson. He glanced at the door. “Did you turn them down?”

  Nelson shook his head. “This is going to be a rough one.”

  Wallace didn’t like the sound of that. “Rough?”

  “Most people don’t want to be dead,” Nelson muttered, running a finger along Apollo’s snout. “But they learn how to accept it. Sometimes it comes with time, like you. But there are some who refuse to even consider it. ‘These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die, like fire and powder.’”

  “Shakespeare,” Wallace said, glancing at Hugo, who hadn’t looked away from the door.

  “Obviously,” Nelson said. He reached up and grabbed Wallace’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Wallace didn’t try to pull away. He told himself the old man needed it. It was the least he could do.

  The porch creaked as someone climbed the stairs. Wallace strained to hear voices, but no one was talking. He found that odd. With him, Mei had chattered the whole way down the road, even if it’d been because of Wallace’s countless questions. The fact that no one spoke unsettled him.

  Three taps on the door. The knocker. A beat of nothing, and then the door opened.

  Mei entered first, a grim smile fixed on her face that didn’t reach her eyes. She was paler than normal, her lips a thin slash with a hint of white teeth. She took in the room, starting with Hugo, then Nelson, Wallace, and Apollo. The dog tried to rise to go to her, but she shook her head, and he whined as he settled back on his haunches. Nelson squeezed Wallace’s hand again.

  If asked, Wallace wouldn’t have been sure who he was expecting to walk in after her. The tea had given him a clue, but it was a small one, and he couldn’t find a way to make it fit into the larger picture. The bitterness, harsh and biting, followed by grass like a field, and the finale of honey, so cloying it stuck in his throat.

  Perhaps someone angry, more than he’d been. Someone shouting, filled with rage at the unfairness of it all. Wallace could certainly understand that. Hadn’t he done the same? He thought it was part of the process, being firmly planted in denial and anger.

  Whatever he thought, the man who entered Charon’s Crossing this night was not what he expected. He was younger, for one, probably early twenties. He wore a loose black shirt over jeans with the knees torn out. His blond hair was long, messily swept back off his forehead as if he’d continuously been running his hands through it. His eyes were dark and glittering, his face a mask stretched tightly over bone. The man was unnerving as he took in the room before him, the light dim, gaze settling only briefly on Nelson and Apollo. He stared for a long moment at Wallace. His lips twitched like he was fighting back a terrible smile. His hand rubbed at his chest, and Wallace was startled when he realized he couldn’t see the hook in his chest, the cable that should have stretched to Hugo. He didn’t know why he hadn’t considered it before. Did Nelson have one? Apollo? Mei?

  Mei closed the door. The latch clicked again, and there was a finality to it that Wallace didn’t like. She said, “This is Hugo. The ferryman, the one I told you about. He’s here to help you.” She gave the man a wide berth as she walked toward Hugo. Her expression never faltered, and she didn’t look at Wallace and Nelson. She stopped next to Hugo. She didn’t try to touch him.

  The man stayed near the door.

  Hugo said, “Hello.”

  The man twitched. “Hello. I’ve heard things about you.” His voice was lighter than Wallace thought it would be, though it carried a palpable undercurrent of something darker, heavier.

  “Have you?” Hugo asked lightly. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

  The man shook his head slowly. “Oh, no. It was good.” He cocked his head. “All of it was good. Too good, if I’m being honest.”

  “Mei does talk me up,” Hugo said. “Tried to get her to break that habit, but she doesn’t listen.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” the man said, and there was the smile. The mask stretched tighter, cheek bones sharp. It chilled Wallace. “At all. Do you listen?”

  “I try,” Hugo said, hands still clasped behind his back. “I know it’s difficult. Learning what you’ve learned. Knowing how things are never going to be the same. Coming here, to a place you’ve never been before with people you don’t know. But I promise you that I’m here to help you as best I can.”

  “And if I don’t want your help?”

  Hugo shrugged. “You will. And I don’t mean that flippantly. You’re on a journey now, one unlike anything you’ve ever been on before. This is just a stop on that journey.”

  The man looked around again. “She said this was a tea shop.”

  “It is.”

  “Yours?”

  “Yes.”

  He jerked his head toward Nelson and Wallace. “They are?”

  “My grandfather, Nelson. My friend Wallace.”

  “Are they…” He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. “Like you? Or like me?”

  Wallace bit back a retort. They were nothing like him. There was a coldness emanating from him. It permeated the room, causing Wallace to shiver.

  “Like you, in a way,” Hugo said. “They have their own journey to make.”

  The man said, “Do you know my name?”

  “Alan Flynn.”

  The skin under Alan’s right eye twitched. “She said I’m dead.”

  “You are,” Hugo said, moving for the first time. He brought his hands out from behind his back, settling them on the table in front of him. The teacups rattled on the tray as the table shifted slightly. “And I’m sorry about that.”

  Alan looked toward the ceiling. “Sorry,” he said, sounding amused. “You’re sorry. What are you sorry for? You didn’t do this to me.”

  “No,” Hugo said. “I didn’t. But still, I am sorry. I know how it must seem for you. I won’t pretend to understand all that you’re going through—”

  “Good,” the man said sharply. “Because you have no idea.”

  Hugo nodded. “Would you like some tea?”

  Alan grimaced. “Never been one for tea. It’s bland.” He rubbed at his chest again. “And boring.”

  “This isn’t,” Hugo said. “You can trust me on that.”

  Alan didn’t seem convinced, but he took a careful step toward the table. The lights in the sconces flickered with a low electrical hum. “You’re here to help me.” He took another step. “That’s what you said.” Another step.

  “I am,” Hugo said. “It doesn’t need to be today. It doesn’t need to be tomorrow. But soon, when you’re ready, I will answer every question I can. I don’t know everything. I don’t pretend to. I’m a guide, Alan.”

  “A guide?” Alan asked, voice taking on a sardonic note. “And just where are you supposed to guide me?”

  “To what’s next.”

  Alan reached the table. He tried to put his hands on it, but they went right through it. His mouth twisted down as he pulled his hands away. “Hell? Purgatory? This woman didn’t feel like offering specifics.” The scorn in his voice was crisp and biting.

  “Not Hell,” Hugo said as Mei narrowed her eyes. “Not Purgatory. Not somewhere in between.”

  “Then what is it?” Alan asked.

  “Something you’ll have to find out for yourself. I don’t have those answers, Alan. I wish I did, but I don’t. I wouldn’t lie to you about that, or anything else. I promise you that, and that I’ll do whatever I can to help you. But first, would you like a cup of tea?”

  Alan looked down at the tray on the table. He reached out to touch the jar of leaves, but his fingers twitched and he dropped his arm again. “Those leaves. I’ve never seen tea like it before. I thought it came in bags with the little strings. My father, he…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Tea comes in all shapes and forms,” Hugo said. “There are many kinds, more than you could possibly imagine.”

  “And you think I’m going to drink your tea?”

  “You don’t have to,” Hugo said. “It’s an offering to welcome you to my tea shop. When people share tea, I’ve noticed it has the power to bring them closer together.”

  Alan snorted derisively. “I doubt that.” He took in a deep breath, tilting his head from side to side. “I bled. Did you know that? I bled out in an alley. I could hear people walking by only a few feet away. I called for them. They ignored me.” His gaze grew unfocused. The lights flickered again. “I asked for help. I begged for help. Have you ever been stabbed before?”

  “No,” Hugo said quietly.

  “I have,” Alan said. He raised his hand to his side. “Here.” He moved his hand to his chest, fingers curling. “Here.” To the side of his throat. “Here. I … I owed him money that I didn’t have. I tried to explain that to him, but he … he flashed the knife, and I said I’d get it. I would. I was good for it. But I’d told him that before, time and time again, and…” His eyes narrowed. “I reached for my wallet to give him the few bucks I had on me. I knew it wouldn’t be enough, but I had to try. He must have thought I was going for a weapon because he just … stabbed me. I didn’t know what was happening. It didn’t hurt at first. Isn’t that strange? I could see the knife going into me, but it didn’t hurt. Even with all the blood, it wasn’t real. And then my legs gave out, and I fell in a pile of trash. There was a fast food wrapper on my face. It smelled awful.”

  “You didn’t deserve that,” Hugo said.

  “Does anyone?” Then, without waiting for an answer: “He got away with seven dollars and a debit card he doesn’t have the PIN for. I tried crawling, but my legs didn’t work. My arms didn’t work. And the people on the sidewalk just kept … walking. It’s not fair.”

  “No,” Hugo said. “It never is.”

  “Help me,” Alan said. “Help me.”

  “I will. I promise I’ll do what I can.”

  Alan nodded, almost relieved. “Good. We need to find him. I don’t know where he lives, but if we just went back, I can find—”

  “I told you,” Mei said. “We can’t go back.” She looked perturbed. Wallace wondered what had happened to make her seem so spooked. “You can only move forward.”

  Alan didn’t like that. He glared at Mei, teeth bared. “You said that, yes. But let’s leave it up to your boss here, huh? You’ve already said enough. I don’t like it when you talk. You don’t tell me what I want to hear.”

  Hugo lifted the teapot and began to pour hot water into the cups on the tray. The steam billowed. He arched an eyebrow at Wallace and Nelson. Nelson shook his head. Hugo filled three cups before setting the pot back down. “What would you do?” he asked as he lifted tea leaves from the jar. He placed a single leaf in each of the cups. “If you could find him? If you knew where he was?”

  Alan flinched, brow furrowing. His hands curled into fists. “I would hurt him like he hurt me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he deserves it for what he did to me.”

  “And that would make you feel better?”

  “Yes.”

  “An eye for an eye.”

  “Yes.”

  “This tea is called kuding cha,” Hugo said. “It’s unlike any tea I have here at my shop. I can’t remember the last time I made it. It’s not for everyone. It’s said to have medicinal properties, and some people swear by it.”

  “I told you I don’t want tea.”

  “I know,” Hugo said. “And even if you did, I couldn’t give it to you yet. It needs time to steep, you see. Good tea is patience. It’s not about instant gratification, not like the bags with the little strings. Those can be fleeting, here and gone again before you know it. Tea like this makes you appreciate the effort you put into it. The more it steeps, the stronger the taste.”

  “The clock,” Alan said. “It’s not moving.”

  “No,” Hugo said. “It’s stopped to give us as much time as you need.” He picked up a teacup and set it closer to Alan. “Give it another moment, then try it and tell me what you think.”

  A tear trickled down Alan’s cheek. “You’re not listening.”

  “I am,” Hugo said. “More than you know. I’ll never know what it was like for you in that alley. No one should ever have to feel alone like that.”

  “You’re not listening.” He turned toward the door.

  “You can’t leave,” Mei said. She took a step toward him, but Hugo held her back. Wait, he mouthed to her. She sighed, shoulders sagging.

  “I can,” Alan said. “The door is right there.”

  “If you leave,” Hugo said, “you’ll begin to break apart, something that will only get worse the farther you go. Outside these walls is the living world, a world you don’t belong to anymore. Alan, I’m so sorry for that. I know you may not believe me, but I am. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about something as important as this. Leaving here will only make things worse. You will lose everything you are.”

  “I already have,” Alan snapped.

  “You haven’t,” Hugo said. “You’re still here. You’re still you. And I can help you. I can show you the way and help you cross.”