He said, “Cameron, no. You can’t. He’s not yours.”

  A dull clacking sound followed, and though Wallace couldn’t see the man, he knew the noise came from him snapping his teeth together.

  “I know,” Hugo said quietly. “But he’s not for you. He never was.”

  Wallace jerked his head when Mei appeared beside him. She frowned as she stood on her tiptoes, looking over Hugo’s shoulder. “Crap.” She dropped back down on her heels before raising her hands close to her chest, left palm toward the sky. She tapped the fingers of her right hand against her left palm in a staccato beat. A little burst of light came from her hand, and she reached over, grabbing Wallace by the arm.

  “Get him home,” Hugo said.

  “What about you?” she asked, already pulling Wallace away. She grimaced when the skin of his wrist filtered through her grip.

  “I’ll follow,” Hugo said, staring straight ahead at the man before him. “I need to make sure Cameron stays where he is.”

  Mei sighed. “Don’t do anything stupid. We’ve already had enough of that for one day.”

  Right before Mei pulled him around the corner, Wallace glanced back once. Cameron had tilted his head toward the sky, mouth open, white tongue stuck out as if he were trying to catch snow. Later, Wallace would realize that it wasn’t flakes of snow that fell onto Cameron’s tongue.

  * * *

  He didn’t speak the entire way back.

  Mei did, however, muttering under her breath that of course her first assignment would be such a pain in the ass, she was being tested, but by god, she was going to see this through if it was the last thing she ever did.

  Wallace’s mind whirled. He noticed with no small amount of dread-tinged awe that the closer they got back to the tea shop, the less his skin disintegrated. It became less and less until they hit the dirt road that led to Charon’s Crossing, where it ceased entirely. He looked down at his arms to see they looked as they always had, although the hairs were standing on end. The hook and cable were still attached to him, though the cable itself now led to where they’d just come from.

  Mei dragged him up the porch stairs and shoved him through the door. “Stay here,” she said before slamming the door in his face. He went to the window and looked out. She stood on the porch, wringing her hands as she stared out into the dark.

  “What the hell?” Wallace whispered.

  “Saw one, did you?”

  He whirled around. Nelson, sitting in his chair in front of the fireplace. The fire was mostly embers now, the remaining charred log glowing red and orange. Apollo lay in front of the chair on his back, his legs kicking in the air. He snorted as he fell to his side, jaws opening in a yawn before he closed his eyes.

  Wallace shook his head. “I … don’t know what I saw.”

  Nelson grunted as he rose from the chair, using the cane to prop himself up. Wallace didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed before, but Nelson’s slippers were little felt rabbits, the ears floppy and frayed. He glanced back out the window. Mei paced, the road in front of the tea shop dark and empty.

  Nelson smacked his lips as he shuffled over to him. He looked Wallace up and down before peering out the window. “Still intact, I see. You should thank your lucky stars.”

  Wallace wasn’t sure how intact he was. It was as if his mind had blown away on the wind with the other pieces of him. He couldn’t focus, and he felt cold. “What happened to me? The … man. Cameron.”

  Nelson sighed. “Poor soul. Figured he was still lurking out there.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s dead,” Nelson said. “A couple of years, or thereabouts. Time … slips a little in here. Sometimes it crawls to a halt, and then it skips and jumps. It’s part of living with a ferryman. Look, Mr. Price, you need to—”

  “Wallace.”

  Nelson blinked owlishly. Then, “Wallace, you need to keep your focus on yourself. Cameron doesn’t concern you. There’s nothing you can do for him. How far did you get before it happened to you?”

  Wallace considered pretending he had no idea what Nelson was talking about. Instead, he said, “The gas station.”

  Nelson whistled lowly. “Farther than I expected, I’ll give you that.” He hesitated. “That world is for the living. It no longer belongs to those of us who’ve passed. And those who try to make it, lose themselves. Call it insanity, call it another form of death. Regardless, the moment you walk out these doors, it begins to pull at you. And the longer you stay out there, the worse it gets.”

  Horrified, Wallace said, “I was out there. For days. Mei didn’t show up until my funeral.”

  “The process sped up the moment you stepped foot into Charon’s Crossing. And if you try to leave, the same thing will happen to you that happened to Cameron.”

  Wallace reared back. “I’m trapped here.”

  Nelson sighed. “That’s not—”

  “It is. You’re telling me that I can’t leave. Mei kidnapped me and brought me here, and I’m a damn prisoner!”

  “Bull,” Nelson said. “There’s a staircase at the back of the house. It’ll take you to the fourth floor. On the fourth floor is a door. You can go through that door, and all of this, everything will fade away. You’ll leave this place behind, and you’ll know only peace.”

  It struck Wallace then, something he hadn’t even considered. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it before. It was as clear as day. “You’re still here.”

  Nelson eyed him warily. “I am.”

  “And you’re dead.”

  “Nothing gets by you, does it?”

  “You haven’t crossed.” Wallace’s voice began to rise. “Which means everything you’re saying is bullshit.”

  Nelson placed his hand on Wallace’s arm, squeezing tighter than Wallace expected. “It’s not. I wouldn’t lie to you, not about this. If you leave this place, you’ll end up like Cameron.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “No,” Nelson said slowly. “Because I’ve never left.”

  “How long have you been—”

  Nelson sniffed. “It’s rude to ask about another person’s death.”

  Wallace blanched, uncharacteristically flustered. “I didn’t mean to—”

  Nelson laughed. “I’m giving you crap, boy. Need to have my fun where I can get it. Been dead for a few years.”

  Wallace reeled. Years. “But you’re still here,” he said faintly.

  “I am. And I have my reasons, but never you mind what those are. I stay here because I choose to. I know the risks. I know what it means. They tried to make me move on, but I gave ’em the ol’ what for.” He shook his head. “But you can’t let that affect what Hugo needs to do for you. Take the time you need, Wallace. There’s no rush, so long as you realize this is the last place you’ll ever be before you cross, if you know what’s good for you. If you can accept that, then we’ll be right as rain. Look. Here he comes.”

  Wallace turned back toward the window. Hugo was walking down the road, hands in the pockets of his apron, head bowed.

  “Such a good boy,” Nelson said fondly. “Empathetic almost to a fault, ever since he was a tyke. Causes him to take the weight of the world on his shoulders. You would do well to listen to him and learn from him. I don’t know if you could find yourself in better hands. Remember that before you start hurling accusations.”

  Mei waited for Hugo on the porch. Hugo looked up at her, smiling tiredly. When they spoke, their voices were muffled but clear. “It’s all right,” he said. “Cameron’s … well. He’s Cameron. Wallace?”

  “Inside,” Mei said. Then, “Do you think it’ll bring the Manager?”

  Hugo shook his head. “Probably not. But weirder things have happened. We’ll explain if he does come.”

  “The Manager?” Wallace whispered.

  “Ooh, you don’t want to know,” Nelson muttered, picking up his cane as he shuffled back toward his chair. “Trust me on that. Mei and Hugo’s boss. Nasty fellow. Pray you don’t ever have to meet him. If you do, then I suggest you do whatever he says.” He brushed a hand over Apollo’s back as the dog rose. Apollo barked happily as he paced back and forth in front of the door. He backed up as it opened, Mei talking a mile a minute as Hugo trailed in after her. Apollo circled around the both of them. Hugo held out his hand. Apollo sniffed his fingers and tried to lick them, but his tongue went right through Hugo’s hand.

  “All right?” Hugo asked even as Mei glared at Wallace.

  No, Wallace wasn’t all right. Nothing about this was all right. “Why didn’t you tell me I’m a prisoner?”

  Hugo sighed. “Grandad.”

  “What?” Nelson said. “Had to scare him straight.” He paused, considering. “Something you probably don’t know a thing about, isn’t that right? Because of the whole gay—”

  “Grandad.”

  “I’m old. I’m allowed to say whatever I want. You know this.”

  “Pain in my ass,” Hugo mumbled, but Wallace could see the quiet smile on his face. The hook tugged gently in his chest, warm and soft. Hugo’s smile faded as he glanced at Wallace. “Come with me.”

  “I don’t want to go through the door,” Wallace blurted. “I’m not ready.”

  “The door,” Hugo repeated.

  “At the top of the stairs.”

  “Grandad.”

  “Eh?” Nelson said, cupping his ear. “Can’t hear you. Must be going deaf. Woe is me. As if my life wasn’t hard enough already. No one should talk to me for the rest of the night so I can collect myself again.”

  Hugo shook his head. “You’ll get yours, old man.”

  Nelson snorted. “Shows what you know.”

  Hugo glanced at Wallace. “I’m not going to take you to the door. Not until you’re ready. I promise.”

  Wallace didn’t know why, but he believed him. “Where are we going?”

  “I want to show you something. It won’t take long.”

  Mei was glaring at him. “You try to run again, I’ll drag you back by your hair.”

  Wallace had been threatened before—many times, in fact; such was the life of a lawyer—but this was one of the first times he actually believed it. For someone so small, she was positively terrifying.

  Before he could speak, Hugo said, “Mei, could you finish up the prep work for tomorrow? Shouldn’t be much left. I got through most of it before you got back.”

  She muttered more threats as she pushed by Hugo and headed through the double doors behind the counter. As the doors swung back and forth, Wallace could see what looked to be a large kitchen, the appliances steel, the floor covered in square tiles.

  Hugo nodded toward a hallway at the back of the room. “Come on. You’ll like this, I think.”

  Wallace doubted that immensely.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Apollo seemed to know where they were going, prancing down the hallway, tail wagging. He looked back every now and then to make sure Hugo followed.

  Hugo went through another entryway without looking back to see if Wallace would follow. The walls were covered in wallpaper, old but clean: little flowers were etched in that seemed to bloom as they walked by, though Wallace thought it might have been a trick of the light. A door on the right led to a small office, a desk inside covered with papers next to an ancient computer.

  A door on the left was closed, but it seemed to be another way into the kitchen. He could hear Mei moving around inside along with the clatter of dishes as she sang at the top her lungs, a rock song that had to be older than she was. But since Wallace couldn’t be sure how old she was (or, if he was being honest with himself, what she was), he decided to let it pass without comment.

  Another door on the right led to a half bathroom with a sign hanging on it that read: GUYS, GALS, & OUR NONBINARY PALS. Beyond it was a set of stairs, and if Wallace still had a heartbeat, he was sure it’d be racing.

  But Hugo paid it no mind, passing the stairs, heading for a door at the end of the hall. Apollo didn’t wait for him to open it, instead walking through it. Wallace learned then that he still wasn’t used to such things, and though he was sure he could do the same, he waited for Hugo to open the door.

  It led outside and into darkness.

  Wallace hesitated until Hugo motioned for him to walk through. “It’s okay. It’s just the backyard. Nothing will happen to you out there.”

  The air was cooler still. Wallace shivered and wondered again why he was shivering. He could make out Apollo’s tail down in the yard, but it took time for his eyes to adjust. He gasped quietly as Hugo flipped a switch near the door.

  Strings of light that hung above them burst to life. They stood on a back deck of sorts. There were more tables on it, the chairs turned over and set atop them. The lights had been strung around the deck railing and the eaves overhead. More plants were hanging down, bright flowers that had turned in on themselves against the night.

  “Here,” Hugo said. “Watch.” He went to the edge of the deck near a set of stairs. He flipped another switch set against a wooden strut, and more lights turned on below the deck, revealing dry, sandy soil and row after row of …

  “Tea plants,” Hugo said before Wallace could ask. “I try to grow as much of my own as I can, only importing leaves that wouldn’t survive the climate. There’s nothing like a cup of tea from leaves that you’ve grown yourself.”

  Wallace watched as Apollo trotted up and down the rows of plants, stopping only briefly to sniff at the leaves. Wallace wondered if he could actually smell anything. Wallace could, a deep and earthy scent, one which grounded him more than he expected.

  “I didn’t know they grew from the ground,” Wallace admitted.

  “Where did you think they came from?” Hugo asked, sounding amused.

  “I … never really thought about it, I guess. I don’t have time for such things.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how it sounded. Normally, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but these were strange days. “Not that it’s a bad thing, but…”

  “Life gets away from you,” Hugo said simply.

  “Yeah,” Wallace muttered. “Something like that.” Then, “Why tea?”

  He followed Hugo down the stairs. The plants were tall, the biggest and most mature rising to Wallace’s waist. In passing, almost at the back of his mind, he noticed the cable stretched tight between himself and Hugo.

  He stopped when Hugo crouched down, reaching out to touch the leaves of one of the tallest plants. The leaves themselves were small and flat and green. He touched one briefly, his fingers trailing along the tip. “Guess how old this plant is.”

  “I don’t know.” He looked around at the other plants. “Six months? A year?”

  Hugo chuckled. “A little older than that. This one was one of my first. It’s ten years old next week.”

  Wallace blinked. “Come again?”

  “Growing tea isn’t for everyone,” Hugo said. “Most tea plants don’t mature until around three or four years. You can harvest the leaves before then, but something’s missing from the flavor and scent. You have to put in the time and have patience. Too early, and you risk killing the plant and having to start all over again.”

  “Is this one of those times where we’re talking about one thing, but you mean something else entirely?”

  Hugo shrugged. “I’m talking about tea plants, Wallace. Something on your mind?”

  Wallace wasn’t sure he believed him. “I have many things on my mind.”

  Hugo said, “In the fall, some of the plants flower, these little things with a yellow center and white petals. The smell is indescribable. It mingles with the scent of forest, and there’s nothing like it in all the world. It’s my favorite time of year. What’s yours?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “It’s just a question, Wallace.”

  Wallace stared at him.

  Hugo let it go. “Sometimes, I talk to the plants. It sounds weird, I know, but studies have been done showing plants respond to encouragement. It’s not conclusive, and it’s not necessarily the wording as much as it is the vibrations of the voice. I’m thinking of setting up speakers sometime soon, to play music for the plants to hear. Have you ever talked to a plant?”

  “No,” he said, distracted by the rows of green, the dark soil holding them in place. They were planted with about four or five feet between them, the leaves glossy in the starlight, and pungent, so much so that it caused Wallace to wrinkle his nose. It wasn’t a bad smell (quite the contrary, in fact), just overwhelming. “That’s stupid.”

  Hugo smiled. “A little bit. But I do it anyway. What could it hurt, right?” He looked back down at the plant before him. “You have to be careful when you harvest the leaves. If you’re too rough, you can end up killing the plant. It took me a long time to get it right. I can’t even begin to tell you how many I’ve had to pull out and throw away because of my own haste.”

  “Plants are living things,” Wallace said.

  “They are. Not like you and me, but in their own way.”

  “Are there ghost plants?”

  Hugo stared at him, mouth agape.

  Wallace scowled at him. “Don’t give me that look. You told me to ask questions.”

  Hugo closed his mouth as he shook his head. “No, it’s not—I’ve never thought about it that way. Curious.” He squinted up at Wallace. “I like where your mind goes.”

  Wallace looked away.

  “No,” Hugo said. “I don’t think there are ghost plants, though it would be wonderful if there were. They’re alive, yes. And maybe they respond to encouragement. Or maybe they don’t and it’s a little story we like to tell ourselves to make the world seem more mysterious than it actually is. But they don’t have a soul, at least none that I’m aware of. That’s the difference between us and them. They die, and that’s it. We die and—”

  “End up at a tea shop in the middle of nowhere against our will,” Wallace said bitterly.

  Hugo sighed. “Let’s try something else. Did you like being alive?”