Dead Man's Deal The Asylum Tales - By Jocelynn Drake Page 0,95

he came to what he was looking for. He held out a white card to me while he shoved his wallet back into his pocket.

Flipping the card over, there was only one word: GAIA. Arching one eyebrow, I looked at Chang as he settled himself back on the bench.

“You’re kidding, right?” I said before I could stop myself.

Chang extended a hand toward me. “If you don’t want . . .”

I jerked the card back and even stepped away from him, which only caused the little old man to chortle. I wasn’t sure that I quite believed in the existence of Gaia, but if Chang thought this woman could help me, then I wasn’t willing to throw away the opportunity.

In truth, I didn’t believe in the gods and goddess. I had a feeling that most were just powerful beings such as a witch or warlock, but not quite of god status. Or at least what I thought of as a god.

“So you’re suggesting that I pay ol’ Mother Nature a visit?” I said, turning over the card between my fingers. There was no address, no phone number, no Web site listed (not that I actually expected this Gaia to have a Web site, but you never know).

Chang grinned at me. “Can you think of anyone who might know more about life and birth?” He paused as if thinking of something and then gave a little shrug as he corrected himself. “Well, anyone you can actually talk to for answers?”

“Look, at this point, I’m open to trying anything. If you think she’ll give me a hand with this, I’ll pay her a visit.”

Chang shook his head. “I didn’t say that she’d help you. I just know that if anyone can fix it, she can.”

“Fantastic,” I muttered. Mother Nature would know how to help the elves, but it was all a matter of getting the old girl to give me a hand. This was certainly turning into one of those days when it would have been better if I didn’t bother to crawl out of bed.

But it was a start. It was a direction to go in rather than spinning my wheels and wasting time that I didn’t have. I sucked in a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. I could do this. Holding up the card toward Chang, I said, “There’s no address. How am I to find her?”

“When you’re ready to see her, she’ll reach out to you.”

“And what do I owe you for this?”

Chang’s grin turned evil as it spread across his face and his eyes narrowed to thin slits. I suppressed a shiver as I looked at him, trying to remind myself that he was always fair. Of course, the little wrinkled man knew that I was desperate.

“Styx,” he said.

I frowned, my stomach clenching. I told myself that it could have been worse, but I wasn’t thrilled. A couple months ago I hanged myself so I could get to the underworld and obtain some of the water from the five rivers. Desperation had already forced me to trade Chang the water from Phlegethon, the river of fire, for a protection amulet—which I promptly lost. The River Styx was not only the river of hate, but it was also the river of death, as it was the main gateway to the other side. I wasn’t yet willing to part with the Styx water.

Shaking my head, I shoved the card in my front pocket. “You’ve given me information rather than an item. Pointed me in a potential direction rather than given me a cure. The best I can offer is Cocytus.”

“Cocytus? River of lamentation?”

“The water is supposed to be angel tears,” I added, hoping this would entice him.

Chang gave a snort. “We both know how well using something from an angel worked for you,” he said a bit snidely. I flushed but kept my mouth shut. You make one girl immortal using an angelic relic, and no one lets you forget about it. Of course, the entire ordeal had been a disaster, forcing me to commit suicide to get the Styx water in the first place so that her immortality could be cured. I’d learned my lesson and was now steering clear of anything angelic. “Cocytus and Acheron,” the old man countered.

“Cocytus and Lethe,” I challenged. Something about Acheron, the river of sorrow, made me nervous after seeing the swamp-like area while in Charon’s ferry. I wasn’t ready to hand that one over just yet either. Lethe represented forgetfulness, and while