Chapter 3: The Ferryman’s Dilemma

In this town, who lives or dies, how long they live—I’m the one who knows it all.

On nights when the wind rattles the old sycamore outside our apartment, I see the shimmer of the other side—shapes drifting along the edges of streetlights, names and numbers floating over every head.

Anyone daring to use black magic to buy life is asking for trouble.

That’s the kind of thing that tips the cosmic balance, puts a mark on your soul. Even the most jaded Ferryman knows better than to mess with fate for a quick buck.

But there’s a rule for Soul Ferrymen: never reveal your true identity.

It’s like Fight Club, but with more funerals and fewer soap bars. If you break the rule, you don’t just lose your job—you lose your place in both worlds.

And generally, we’re discouraged from marrying.

They say love clouds your judgment, makes you reckless. The last Ferryman who fell in love ended up vanishing without a trace, erased from every registry—human and otherwise.

If Natalie ever found out I was a Soul Ferryman, one of us would have to disappear from this world.

The thought makes my stomach clench every time she hugs me a little too tight, every time she says “forever.”

So I couldn’t explain things to her. I just told her it would be fine, not to worry.

I made my voice as gentle as I could, smoothing her hair back, promising that nothing bad would happen. I wished I could believe it myself.

At that moment, Natalie’s mom—my future mother-in-law—arrived. As soon as she walked in, she scolded me:

The door flew open, and in marched Mrs. Janice Rivera—Natalie’s mom, five-foot-nothing, pure Latina fire. Her glare could curdle milk. “Ay, mijo, what were you thinking? I told you—never let her go alone!”

"Look at you, acting like nothing’s wrong!"

She dropped her purse with a thud, hands on her hips. “You’re standing there like you didn’t just nearly lose her! What were you thinking?”

"Why didn’t you go with her for something as important as a doctor’s visit?"

The nurse shrank into the hallway. Mrs. Rivera’s voice could cut through steel. “She’s your girlfriend—where were you, huh?”

"How do you usually take care of her? Caleb, I really can’t trust you."

She jabbed a finger at my chest, eyes blazing. I tried to shrink into my shoes.

"What’s more important, your job or your girlfriend?"

She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Money, money, money—that’s all men care about until someone gets hurt.”

I kept my head down and said nothing.

I felt like a kid called to the principal’s office, wishing the ground would swallow me up. I muttered apologies, but she wasn’t having it.

Natalie tried to defend me, saying she just had a cough and didn’t ask me to come.

Her voice was weak but firm. “Mom, it’s not Caleb’s fault. I told him to go to work—really, I just needed a checkup, nothing big.”

But as soon as she finished speaking, Natalie’s cough worsened, and then she began convulsing.

It was like a switch flipped—her whole body seized, eyes rolling back. The monitors beeped, and suddenly, the room was a blur of doctors and crash carts.

The doctor saw it was serious, immediately began emergency treatment, and recommended she be admitted to the ICU. We were told to pay quickly.

Panic hit me like a sucker punch. “ICU? But she was fine a second ago!” A nurse was already printing out paperwork, explaining that someone needed to put down a deposit—thirty grand, minimum.

Everything happened so fast that I barely had time to react. I was terrified.

Mrs. Rivera wailed. I fumbled with my phone, my mind blank, numb with fear. Natalie’s lips turned blue. I’d never felt more helpless.

Then, I noticed a thick black shadow swirling around Natalie.

It coiled above her, oily and shifting, the kind of darkness only I could see. My Ferryman senses kicked in, heart thudding with dread.

My heart sank.

The air felt cold and brittle. The hair on my arms stood up. Something old and ugly was at work here.

She’d been hit by something evil.

No doubt about it—the curse was real. Not superstition. Not a scam. Real, and deadly.

That Ghost Granny really had some dark tricks.

I clenched my fists, vowing that whoever did this would pay. No one messes with a Ferryman’s family and gets away with it.