Alan choked on his tongue.

  And then he was knocked off his feet when Nelson appeared behind him, sweeping his legs out from underneath him with his cane. Alan landed roughly on his back, the lights in the sconces flaring briefly.

  “Not too old to show you a trick or three, you insolent child,” Nelson said coolly. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll bite your tongue before I show you what I can really do.” He turned back toward his chair, but not before he winked at a gobsmacked Wallace.

  “No, wait,” Alan said, pushing himself up off the floor as the shop settled around them. “I…” He ground his teeth together. “I’ll listen.”

  Nelson eyed him critically. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Your first task is to sit there without talking. If I hear so much as a peep from you before I tell you to speak again, I won’t teach you a damn thing.”

  “But—”

  “Stop. Talking.”

  Alan snapped his mouth closed, though he looked furious about it.

  “Go check on them,” Nelson said to Wallace as he sat back down. “I’ll handle things in here.”

  Wallace believed it. He knew how much the cane hurt.

  He glanced back only once as he hurried down the hallway.

  Alan hadn’t moved.

  Maybe he would listen after all.

  * * *

  “—and you don’t need to take that kind of abuse,” Mei was saying hotly as Wallace walked through the door into the cool evening air. “I don’t care who he thinks he is, no one gets to talk to you that way. Screw that guy. Screw him right in his stupid face.”

  Hugo smiled wryly. “Thanks, Mei. Pointed as always.”

  “Just because he’s angry and scared doesn’t give him the right to be a dick. Tell him, Wallace.”

  “Yeah,” Wallace said. “I’m probably not the best person, seeing as how I used to be a dick.”

  Mei snorted. “Used to be. That’s real cute.” Then, “Did you leave Nelson alone with him?”

  He held up his hands. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. Nelson already put him in his place. I’m more worried about Alan than anything else.”

  Hugo groaned. “What did Grandad do?”

  “Like … ghost karate?”

  Mei laughed. “Oh, man, and I missed it? I need to go see if he’ll do it again. You’ve got this, Wallace, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She stood on her tiptoes, kissing Hugo on the cheek before heading back inside. Wallace heard her shouting for Nelson before she closed the door.

  “Pain in the ass,” Hugo muttered.

  Wallace walked toward him. “Who? Nelson or Mei?”

  “Yes,” Hugo said before yawning, his jaw cracking audibly.

  “You should go to bed,” Wallace said. “Get some rest. I think he’ll be quieter tonight.” If they were lucky, Nelson would convince him to keep his mouth shut for at least a few hours.

  “I will. Just … needed to clear my head for a moment.”

  “How did it go?”

  Hugo started to shrug but stopped halfway. “It went.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “He’s angry. I get it. I really do. And as much as I want to, I can’t take that away from him. It’s his. The best I can do is to make sure he knows he doesn’t have to hold onto it forever.”

  Wallace was dubious at best. “You think he’ll listen to you?”

  “I hope so.” Hugo smiled tiredly. “It’s too soon to tell. But if it starts getting out of hand…” A complicated expression crossed his face. “Well, let’s just say it’s best to avoid that if possible.”

  “The Manager.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t like him.”

  Hugo looked off into the dark. “He isn’t the type of being to be liked. As long as the job gets done, nothing else matters. I’m not exactly ambivalent, but…”

  “He scares you,” Wallace said, suddenly sure.

  “He’s a cosmic being overseeing death,” Hugo said dryly. “Of course he scares me. He scares everyone. That’s kind of the point.”

  “You still listened to him when he offered you a job.”

  Hugo shook his head. “That has nothing to do with it. I took the job because I wanted to. How could I not? Helping people when they need it most, when they think all is lost? Of course I’d agree to it.”

  “Like Jesus,” Wallace said solemnly. “Got that savior complex down pat.”

  Hugo burst out laughing. “Yeah, yeah. Point taken, Wallace.” He sobered slightly. “And then there’s the fact that he might be a liar given what he’s said about the Husks, and that scares me even more. It makes me wonder what else he’s kept from me.”

  “Make any headway with that?”

  “Not yet. I’m still thinking. I’ll get there. Just not yet.”

  They fell quiet, leaning against the railing.

  “I think he’ll listen,” Hugo said finally. “Alan. I need to be careful with him. He’s fragile right now. But I know I can get through to him. He just needs time to work through it. And once he’s better and I can show him how to cross, we can go back to normal.” He reached out for Wallace, only to stop himself and curl his fingers.

  “Yeah,” Wallace said. “Normal.”

  “That’s not … I keep forgetting.” His brow furrowed above a pinched expression as he breathed heavily through his nose. “That you’re…”

  “I know,” Wallace said.

  Hugo’s face crumpled. “I’m losing focus. I keep thinking you’re…” He shook his head. He started for the door, whistling for Apollo who barked from the tea garden.

  And before he could walk through the open door, Wallace said, “Hugo.”

  He stopped but didn’t turn around.

  Wallace looked up at the stars.

  Is there anything you would say to someone left behind if you could?

  He said, “If things were different, if I were me, and you were you … do you think you’d ever see me as someone you could…”

  He didn’t think Hugo was going to answer. He’d walk through the door without a word, leaving Wallace alone and feeling foolish.

  He didn’t.

  He said, “Yes.” And then he went inside.

  Wallace stared after him, burning like the sun.

  CHAPTER

  16

  “Are you sure about this?” Wallace muttered, eyeing Alan warily. It was the third day with their new guest, and Wallace still wasn’t sure what to make of him. Ever since Nelson had laid him out on his back, he’d … well, not changed, not exactly. He’d taken to watching their every movement, and though he didn’t ask many questions, Wallace had the feeling he was taking it all in, not quite a cornered animal waiting to strike, but close. It certainly didn’t help that he never looked away from Wallace when he started taking down the chairs each morning, getting the tea shop ready for yet another day. Every time Wallace grabbed hold of a different chair, he could feel Alan’s gaze on him. It made his skin crawl.

  “I can’t imagine what it’s like for him,” Nelson said, voice low in case Alan was trying to listen in. “I know he’s a little rough around the edges—”

  “It’s okay to be hyperbolic. Really. I swear. Don’t hold back.”

  “—but murder victims have a harder time understanding that the life they knew is over.” Nelson shook his head. “He died not because of his own choice, or because his body gave out on him, but because someone else took his life from him. It’s a violation. We have to tread carefully, Hugo more than the rest of us.”

  Wallace was uneasy as he set down the last chair, hearing Mei singing in the kitchen at the top of her lungs. He glanced through the porthole windows and caught a glimpse of Hugo moving back and forth. They hadn’t had the chance to talk more since their last night on the deck, though Wallace wasn’t sure what more could be said. Hugo needed to put his focus on Alan, and Wallace was dead. Nothing was going to change that. It was ridiculous to think otherwise, or so that’s what Wallace told himself. Declarations were meaningless in the face of life and death.

  Wallace had never been a fan of the what if.

  The problem with that was Wallace was also a liar, because it was getting harder to think of anything but the what if.

  And it was dangerous, this. Because Wallace had been sitting in front of the fire the night before, barely listening as Nelson spoke with Alan, telling him that before he could even think of doing what he and Wallace could do, he needed to clear his head, he needed to focus. Wallace was far, far away. It was a sunny day. He found himself in a tiny little town. He was lost. He needed to stop and ask for directions. He found a curious little sign next to a dirt road advertising CHARON’S CROSSING TEA AND TREATS. He turned down the road. Sometimes he was in a car. Other times he was walking. Regardless, his destination never changed. He reached the house at the end of the dirt road, marveling at how such a thing could exist without collapsing. He walked in through the door.

  And there, standing behind the counter, was a man with a bright bandana around his head, a quiet smile on his face.

  What happened next varied, though the beating heart of it was the same. Sometimes, the man behind the counter would smile at him and say, “Hello. I’ve been waiting for you. My name is Hugo, what’s yours?” Other times, Hugo would already know his name (how, it didn’t matter; little dreams like these didn’t need logic), and he’d say, “Wallace, I’m so happy you’re here. You look like you could use some peppermint tea.”

  “Yes,” Wallace would reply. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

  And Hugo poured him a cup and then one for himself. They took it to the back deck, leaning against the railing. There were versions of this fantasy where they didn’t speak at all. They sipped their tea and just … existed near each other.

  There were other versions, though.

  Hugo would say, “How long are you staying?”

  And Wallace would reply, “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. I don’t even know how I got here. I was lost. Isn’t that funny?”

  “It is.” Hugo glanced at him, smiling quietly. “Maybe it’s fate. Maybe this is where you’re supposed to be.”

  Wallace would never know what to say to this version of him, this Hugo who didn’t have the weight of death on his shoulders, and a Wallace who had blood flowing through his veins. His face would grow warm, and he’d look down at his tea, muttering under his breath that he didn’t really believe in fate.

  Hugo laughed. “That’s okay. I’ll believe in it enough for the both of us. Drink your tea before it gets cold.”

  He startled when Nelson snapped his fingers inches from his face. “What?”

  Nelson looked amused. “Where’d you go?”

  “Nowhere,” Wallace said, face hot.

  “Oh boy,” Nelson said. “Something on your mind you’d care to discuss?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Nelson sighed. “I don’t know what’s worse. Whether you believe that or you don’t and said it anyway.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Nelson smiled sadly. “No, I don’t suppose it does.”

  * * *

  The day went on as it always did, even if the tea shop felt a little more charged than normal. It wasn’t as if Alan were threatening any of them. He wasn’t. In fact, he barely spoke at all. He wandered around the tea shop as he had the day before, listening in on conversations, studying the customers. There were times he’d bend over in front of them, the tip of his nose inches from their own. No one knew anything was amiss, and rather than growing angrier, Alan looked delighted, and not in a way that seemed to be terrifying or menacing. It was an almost childlike glee, his smile appearing genuine for the first time since he’d arrived at the tea shop. Wallace could see the man he might have been before his decisions led him into that alley.

  “It’s like when I was a kid,” Alan told Nelson. “You know when you think about wanting to be a superhero? Like lasers from your eyes, or the ability to fly. I always wanted the power to turn invisible.”

  “Why?” Nelson asked.

  Alan shrugged. “Because if people can’t see you, they don’t know what you’re doing and you can get away with anything.”

  And on the third day after Alan’s arrival, Nancy came back to Charon’s Crossing.

  She walked through the door as she always did, mouth tight, the circles under her eyes like bruises. She went to her usual table and sat without speaking to anyone, though a few of the customers in the tea shop nodded at her.

  Hugo went back into the kitchen, and before the doors had a chance to stop swinging, they opened again as Mei came out, standing at the register.

  “Poor dear,” Nelson murmured from his chair. “Still not sleeping. I don’t know how much longer she can stand it. I wish there were more we could do for her.”

  “So long as it has nothing to do with Desdemona,” Wallace said. “I can’t believe she—”

  “Who’s that?”

  They turned to look at Alan. He stood in the middle of the tea shop next to a table filled with people around his age. He’d been circling them since they’d arrived. He was stopped now, gaze trained on the table near the window and the woman who sat there.

  He started to take a step toward her. Wallace moved even before he realized it. Alan blinked when Wallace appeared in front of him, a hand pressed against his chest. He looked down, frowning, and Wallace pulled his hand back. “What are you doing?”

  “Leave her alone,” Wallace said stiffly. “I don’t care about what you do to anyone else here, but you stay away from her.”

  Alan’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” He glanced over Wallace’s shoulder before looking back at him. “It’s not like she can see me. Who gives a shit?” He started to move around Wallace but stopped when Wallace gripped his wrist.

  “She’s off-limits.”

  Alan jerked his arm away. “You can feel it, can’t you? She’s like … a beacon. She’s on fire. I can taste it. What’s wrong with her?”

  Wallace almost snapped that it didn’t concern him. He course-corrected at the last moment, even though the idea of playing to Alan’s humanity seemed so farcical it was ludicrous. “She’s grieving. Lost her daughter to illness. It was … bad. The details don’t matter. She comes here because she doesn’t know where else to go. Hugo sits with her, and we leave them alone.”

  He was pleasantly surprised when Alan nodded slowly. “She’s lost.”

  “Yes,” Wallace said. “And whether or not she’ll find her way isn’t up to us. I don’t give a crap who else you go near, but leave Nancy alone. Even if none of them can hear us, you don’t want to run the risk of making things worse for her.”

  “Worse,” Alan repeated. “You think I’m the one who could make things worse.” He cocked his head. “Has Hugo told her about all of this? Is that why she comes here, because she knows Hugo helped her daughter cross?”

  “No,” Wallace said. “He hasn’t. He’s not allowed. It’s part of being a ferryman.”

  “But he did help her girl cross,” Alan said. “And somehow, part of her knows that, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. What does that make Hugo if he’s lying to her? And if part of her does know, that means she isn’t like everyone else. Maybe she can see us. Maybe she can see me.”

  Wallace stepped in front of Alan again as he tried to move by. “She can’t. And even if she could, you don’t get to put her through that. I don’t know what it’s like to be you. I’ll never understand what happened to you, or what it must have felt like. But you don’t get to use her to try to make yourself feel better.”

  Alan opened his mouth to retort but stopped when Hugo walked through the kitchen doors. The din of the tea shop went on around them, but Hugo was staring at Wallace and Alan, a tea tray in his hands. Mei stood on her tiptoes and whispered something in his ear. He didn’t react. She glanced at them, and if Wallace didn’t know her, he’d have thought nothing of her blank expression. But he did know her, and she wasn’t happy.

  Hugo walked around the counter, fixing a smile on his face. He nodded at everyone who greeted him. As he passed Wallace and Alan, he spoke from the corner of his mouth. “Please stay away from her.”

  He continued on without stopping.

  Nancy stared out the window as Hugo set the tea tray down on the table. She didn’t react as he poured the tea into the cup. He set the cup in front of her before taking his seat opposite her, folding his hands on the table as he always did.

  Alan watched them, waiting.

  When nothing happened, he asked, “What’s he doing?”

  “Being there for her,” Wallace said, wishing Alan would let it go. “Waiting for her to be ready to talk. Sometimes the best way to help someone is not to say anything at all.”

  “Bullshit,” Alan muttered. He crossed his arms and glared at Hugo. “Did he screw up or something? He’s got guilt written all over him. What’d he do?”

  “If he wants to tell you, he will. Leave it alone.”

  And wonder of all wonders, Alan seemed to listen in his own way. He threw up his hands before stalking to the opposite side of the room toward a table where a small group of women sat.

  Wallace sighed in relief as he looked back at Mei.

  She nodded at him before rolling her eyes.

  “Right,” he said. “Kids these days.”

  She coughed into her hand, but he could see the curve of her smile.

  And that should have been it. That should’ve been the end of it.

  Nancy sitting there, not speaking. Hugo waiting, never pushing. The teacup in front of her, unacknowledged. After an hour (or maybe two), she’d stand, chair scraping against the floor, Hugo telling her he’d be there, always, whenever she was ready.

  And then she’d leave. Perhaps she’d come back tomorrow and the next day and the next day, or perhaps she’d be missing for a day or two.

  Nancy sat in her chair. Hugo sat across from her. After an hour, she stood.

  Hugo said, “I’ll be here. Always. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”