by HP Mallory
“Persephone represents a woman whom Hades could never fully possess, right?” I started.
“Yes,” he responded automatically.
“Well, if Persephone is the Earth and you are Hades, then it goes to follow that you can’t have the life you once did just as Hades can’t wholly possess Persephone.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t you just tell me she returns to Earth every year?”
“Yes,” he said and then nodded. “So you believe Persephone is an analogy for Earth?”
“I guess so,” I answered. I left out the fact that everything about the Underground City was a blatant rip-off of the earthly plane. From the Tesla, to the buildings, to the murals of clouds and blue sky in the lobby, everything strove to be a version of Earth, and one that paled miserably in comparison.
“Or perhaps it is simpler than that?” Alaire argued. “Perhaps Persephone is you?”
“How could she be me?” I asked while shaking my head. “I’m sure you owned those paintings before I was even a blip on your radar.”
“True,” he admitted, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully. “But perhaps Royo was merely channeling the future. It could be that the painting was simply a window of a future shared by you and me.”
I didn’t like the idea of sharing my future with Alaire. I also didn’t know how to respond to his observation, so I chose to leave it alone and, instead, changed the subject. “So how does one become the Leader of the Underground City, anyway?”
Alaire shrugged. “I imagine in quite the same way as one assumes any government office.”
“What? You’re elected?” I asked with a facetious laugh that indicated I found his response ridiculous.
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“So do all the inhabitants of the Underground City go to the polls on voting day?” I persisted, not concealing the flippancy in my tone.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Alaire answered with a smile that indicated his amusement.
“Who makes the decision then?”
“Afterlife Enterprises.”
“Jason Streethorn?” I asked, my mouth dropping open with surprise. It seemed everything led back to Afterlife Enterprises …
“Not quite,” Alaire replied with a laugh. “Jason Streethorn is not the highest ranking official in Afterlife Enterprises, my dear. He is merely a manager.”
“Oh,” I answered, not entirely sure why I assumed Jason was at the top of the totem pole. Of course, in my experience, he was the only person I’d dealt with in AE, so maybe it naturally followed that I believed him to be head honcho.
“The position of the Keeper of the Underground City is the most important job title in Afterlife Enterprises, second only to the CEO of AE, himself,” Alaire continued.
“And the CEO of Afterlife Enterprises assigned you as the Keeper?” I asked.
Alaire nodded. “That’s so.” Then he studied me for a few seconds, a smirk still visible on his lips. “I am surprised your forest Yeti did not explain the politics of Afterlife Enterprises, himself.”
“Tallis?” I asked. Since there really wasn’t anyone else who could fit the mold of the “forest Yeti,” it was a rhetorical question more than anything else. Alaire nodded as I sighed. “Tallis isn’t exactly much of a talker.”
“That he is not, but he certainly could have answered your questions considering the amount of time he’s spent here.” The way Alaire said the comment, I could tell he was just begging me to ask the obvious question of why Tallis had spent so much time in the Underground City. But that wasn’t a topic I wanted to discuss with Alaire because I was more than certain Alaire would flavor his response with his own personal biases where Tallis was concerned.
“Hmm,” I said, searching for another conversational outlet.
“I take it you and Black have yet to discuss his history here?” Alaire continued. Even though he carefully guarded his manner, feigning only slight interest, I knew better. Inside, he was clinging to the question he’d just asked, waiting with bated breath for my answer.
“Like I said, Tallis isn’t much of a talker,” I repeated, intending to keep Tallis’s business just that, his own. I had a feeling that any information in Alaire’s hands was a dangerous place for it to be.
“I am not one to offer advice, my dear,” Alaire started as I immediately doubted the sincerity in his statement. “But Tallis Black’s time spent here in the Underground City is a topic you might very well benefit from discussing with him. Perhaps your mountain man is not the saint you believe him to be.”
“I never believed Tallis was a saint,” I responded snidely, my heart suddenly feeling heavy as soon as I thought of the hulking Scot. Pushing thoughts of him out of my head, I faced Alaire again. “I know what sort of man Tallis is.”
“Very well,” Alaire said, nodding in a way that conveyed that he definitely didn’t agree with my statement. But, apparently, he intended to leave it alone, all the same.
“So what sort of job credentials do you need in order to obtain the position of Keeper of the Underground?” I continued. I wanted to steer him away from the subject of Tallis in order to learn more about his role in the Underground City. I figured this information was probably good to know. “I imagine your warrior background must’ve helped you immensely?”
“Of course,” Alaire said as he nodded. “But a violent background is merely the tip of the iceberg.”
“What else did the job description demand?”
“The most important role for the Keeper of the Underground City is maintaining order in what would otherwise be total chaos.”
“And how does one accomplish that?”
“Through fear, Ms. Harper,” Alaire replied immediately. His eyes were as cold as stone when they settled on mine. I swallowed hard as any former confidence I possessed suddenly dwindled away to nothing.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice hesitant.
“Fear is the highest form of power. Do not let anyone ever convince you otherwise.” He continued to stare at me as if he could see right through me. “A leader who inspires fear is a respected leader.” He was quiet for a few seconds before he smiled. “Do I frighten you, Ms. Harper?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer the question, but I dared not feign my bravado, as he would see right through it. “I don’t know what to make of you, Alaire,” I replied truthfully.
He chuckled softly. “You remain guarded with me,” he said after a silence, which lasted the count of four heartbeats.
“Do you blame me?”
“Of course not. You are a smart woman and you trust your instincts,” he answered. His eyes perused my face before falling down to my neck, then to my breasts, and ultimately, to my stomach. “Your instincts will never lead you astray.”
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“My apologies,” he responded with a charming smile as his eyes found mine again. “As I imagine you can guess, my instincts demand that I take what is mine.”
“I’m not yours,” I announced, in a flat tone of voice. An undeniable sense of intimidation began washing over me in icy waves.
“No, not yet.”
“Not ever.”
“Never say never, my dear,” he replied, his tone sounding more playful than it had only moments earlier. “Now, where were we with regard to Royo’s paintings?” he said, suddenly changing the subject, and clapping his hands together excitedly. “Ah, yes, two down and two to go.”
I swallowed, taking a deep breath before adjusting my mind to the change of topic. Truthfully, it relieved me when Alaire switched the course of our conversation. I’d been on edge at the mention of him feeling entitled to “take what was his.” His comment hovered over me like a looming threat, the dread of it difficult to shake.
“The, uh,” I started, steering my attention back to the subject of Royo’s paintings and Alaire’s assumption that they all had something to do with him. “The only painting which doesn�
�t seem to fit the mold of the others is the one of the woman who slayed the demon,” I announced. “I think you said she was called ‘Immaculate’?” He merely nodded, so I continued. “I’m not really sure how you relate to it, but I must admit, I like it the best.”
“Do you?” he asked with a smirk, some of his former candor evident again. “I am not surprised that you like it the best, Ms. Harper. It is the only example of the four that depicts a woman overpowering a man.”
I nodded. “But it’s really so much more than that. The woman slayed the demon, which, no doubt, symbolizes evil, so I think of it as good triumphing over bad.”
“I am not certain Royo sees the world quite as black and white as you may believe.”
I shrugged. “Well, regardless, the only good demon is a dead demon, as far as I’m concerned.”
Alaire chuckled heartily before allowing the laugh to die when his eyes found mine again. “Perhaps you are Immaculate, herself, my dear?” he asked. “And I am the unfortunate demon whom you intend to slay with your sword?”
“I could only be so lucky,” I grumbled but offered him a smile.
“Speaking of swords,” Alaire started as he eyed me narrowly, his eyes piercing mine. “May I venture to assume you have misplaced yours?”
I swallowed so hard, I half wondered if I’d swallowed my tongue. I didn’t respond at first, but cleared my throat while mentally grasping for the best reply.
“Do not fret, Ms. Harper,” Alaire continued in an offhand manner. “I do not plan to extend our little dalliance any longer than was mutually agreed upon.”
Relief washed over me before I remembered that I this was Alaire I was dealing with, so maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to trust him. “And we agreed to have dinner,” I said, making damn sure we were on the same page.
“Yes, just dinner,” Alaire concurred with a nod. “But I do hope you will delight me again sometime soon, as I have enjoyed your company immensely.”
“We’ll see,” I answered, desperately hoping I’d never have to see him again, let alone have dinner with him.
Alaire was about to comment further, but the words were snatched right out of his mouth when it sounded like a hurricane suddenly formed right outside the dining room. I heard a roar, which I wasn’t even certain was human, and moments later, saw the blade of an axe coming right through the wall beside the sliding door in the room. I heard myself scream as the axe crashed through the wall two more times.
Alaire threw his chair back and immediately stood up, alarm clearly etched on his face. I turned toward the room’s entrance and observed the blade of the axe slicing through the wall again before leaving a hole the size of a small child. I heard the axe fall to the floor as, seconds later, two large hands appeared through the hole and ripped the rest of the drywall apart.
“Well, well,” Alaire announced in a friendly tone, although his eyes appeared murderous. “It appears we have another dinner guest, my dear.” He glanced at me briefly before returning his gaze to the unexpected guest, who was just pushing his way through the large hole in the wall. “What a shame I forgot to set a place for you.”
If Alaire’s gaze was murderous, Tallis’s was even more so.
“A marsh it makes, which has the name of Styx”
– Dante’s Inferno
TEN
“Ah am nae interested in conversation, Alaire,” Tallis ground out, while standing a few feet from us and shaking with obvious rage. He appeared to be using every ounce of willpower to refrain from launching himself at Alaire. He turned the intensity of his gaze on me and his face turned a few brighter shades of red once he perused my outfit. “Lily, coome haire,” he managed between gritted teeth.
I stood up, but Alaire immediately barricaded me with his arm to keep me from walking away. He cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving Tallis. “I, too, am not interested in idle conversation with you, Black.” When he took a few steps toward the outraged Scotsman, I couldn’t help noticing how polar opposite they were—Alaire, dressed in a crisp business suit with coiffed hair and a clean-shaven face, and Tallis, clad in a kilt, exposing his massive chest, with our swords strapped to it, and a large animal pelt draped across his shoulders. His hair was an inch or so longer than I remembered, and his cheeks and jawline showed week-old stubble.
“And as you are clearly crashing an event to which you were not invited,” Alaire continued, “I would kindly appreciate it if you would turn right around and crawl back through that fairly large hole you’ve just put into my wall.” Shaking his head, Alaire muttered something about “employing bodyguards” in the future.
“Lily!” Tallis yelled at me, letting it be known that he wanted me by his side immediately. His eyes looked like they might bulge right out of his head. I took a tentative step toward him, but this time Alaire reached out and grabbed hold of my upper arm in an obvious attempt to keep me right where I was.
“We have not finished our discussion yet, my dear,” he said to me before facing Tallis again. “And, therefore, this Neanderthal was just on his way out.” Alaire’s lips were so tight, they nearly vanished into his face.
Tallis’s eyes were glued to my arm, where Alaire held me immobile. “Release ’er,” he demanded, the midnight blue in his eyes quickly becoming absorbed by inky blackness.
“Alaire,” I started in a trembling voice. I could see where this situation was headed and wanted no part of it. “Let’s call it a night.” I tried to pull my arm free, but Alaire’s grip felt as tight as a tourniquet.
“No, Ms. Harper,” Alaire replied in a louder tone, his gaze never leaving Tallis. “You and I will continue our evening as soon as this behemoth learns some manners and fully understands that breaking and entering will not be tolerated!”
I definitely couldn’t concur with that. As soon as Tallis bulldozed his way through the wall, I’d felt nothing but relief because I knew I was safe as long as Tallis was by my side. My former worries as to whether or not Alaire would release me after dinner, and how I could make it through the Dark Wood unarmed, were no longer a concern to me. Now, the only unpredictable factor went by the name of Alaire …
“Fur the lest time,” Tallis said in a frosty voice, enough of a warning all on its own. “Oonhand ’er.”
“Perhaps I should remind you, heathen, that you cannot and will not talk to me in such a manner,” Alaire seethed, his chest rising and falling noticeably. “There may have been a time when you could and did speak to me in such a way but that time is long past.”
I was surprised and found myself wondering what the nature of their relationship was in the past, that Tallis had apparently ranked more highly than Alaire when it came to Underground City politics.
“Ah will speak tae ye however it pleases meh,” Tallis spat out, his eyes glued to Alaire’s hand where he held my arm.
“Does it bother you when I touch her, Black?” Alaire asked. He laughed, and his tone of voice suddenly sounded playful. But beneath his apparent levity was something not quite so humorous. Rather, it was more along the lines of acidic. He continued to grasp my arm as if it were his last lifeline. He walked toward me, but stopped when he stood directly behind me. I felt his other hand wrapping around my other arm.
“Let go of me, Alaire,” I whispered. A rash of goose bumps broke out along my skin and I felt a shiver racing up my spine, but neither for good reasons. I didn’t like being touched by Alaire. Every hair on my body was standing at attention and my heart felt like it was slamming against my ribs. I started to feel nauseous. Turning my head so I could see Alaire out of my peripheral vision, I attempted to defuse the situation. “You said you would let me go after our dinner was over,” I managed before glancing at the table, and spotting the remainder of his uneaten cake. “And since we’ve finished dessert, clearly, our evening is at its end.”
Alaire didn’t respond so I tried to shake his hands free, but he clung to my arms like his hands were manacles. Making no motion to release me, he instead
started to rub my arms up and down. “I thought you were a man of your word?” I whispered to him, my voice soft but angry.
“Did it ever occur to you, Black,” Alaire suddenly piped up, obviously ignoring my comment, “that she enjoys my caresses?” I felt my mouth drop open in abhorrent shock because I’d never so much as even suggested such lies to him. Then he chuckled. “Her entire body is shivering, perhaps … with anticipation? Excitement? What would you call it, Ms. Harper?” He eyed me momentarily, but probably realizing what my response would be, didn’t allow me to answer the question. “Exhilaration over the thrill of a real man’s touch?”
“Enuff!” Tallis roared, pulling his sword from its sheath, and wielding it high above his head in a manner that indicated he was finished playing games.
“Please, Alaire, don’t blow this out of proportion,” I said in a forgiving tone of voice, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Just let me go and we’ll discuss all of this later. I’m sure we can reach a compromise that doesn’t have to end in violence.”
But Alaire didn’t spare me a glance. I could see from the corners of my eyes that his attention was riveted on Tallis. “I can feel her innocence flowing through her body, humming in her blood,” he teased, making it more than obvious that he was deliberately seeking a reaction from Tallis. Moving one of his hands over my stomach, Alaire fanned his fingers across it. I felt myself instinctively shrinking away from him. Moments later, I was reminded of the Royo painting, the one with the naked, blond woman and the hideous, winged creature behind her with its hand covering her thigh possessively.
“If you’re trying to impress me, Alaire, it isn’t working,” I said, changing tactics because he clearly couldn’t have cared less about trying to keep the peace with Tallis. If anything, he was trying to goad Tallis, provoking the larger man to lose his cool. “Alaire,” I repeated his name when he didn’t answer me. He exhaled a breath onto my neck and leaned down until our heads were parallel, making a big motion of inhaling deeply. “The smell of naiveté and virtue is unparalleled, is it not, Black?” he asked Tallis before standing up again. “Heady and intoxicating. Finer than the most expensive perfume.”
