by Liz Schulte
“Gus!” I hollered. “What the hell are you up to?!”
The kid turned to me, his eyes flashing red and I yelped.
“Your platonic boyfriend really screwed the pooch this time,” the skull on our mantel said, its eye sockets flashing a bright green. That was my Aunt Tillie. Her ghost had been trapped in the skull ever since Forrest, Gus’s last boyfriend, put a whammy on her.
When the guy in the cage saw it was me, and not Gus standing there, his eyes returned to a normal color, and he went from looking deadly to looking like an average, quirky, spoiled teen.
“That’s impressive. Three different looks in ten seconds. Beauty, beast and jester,” I quipped, wondering where the hell Gus was.
“Look, luv, cut me some slack. It’s like a tic. When I get stressed out, my look changes. I can’t help it. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to make fun of people?”
“Just wait until you see his vengeful angel look,” Aunt Tillie said. “You won’t be so glib then.”
“Okay, okay, “ I backed up, raising my hands in surrender. “Mind telling me why he’s in a cage, in the middle of the living room?”
The guy stalked closer to the padlocked door. “This total doolally nutter, who looked like a cross between a pirate and a poofy witch, locked me in here. Do me a solid and let me out? You have a key? A blow torch? A saw?”
“Gus!” I yelled again, at the top of my lungs.
“Yell all you want. He’s not here. He ran off to get something or other,” Tillie sniffed.
“Be a pet and let me out,” the kid said, leering at me in a way that looked weirdly creepy and wrong. “Look, this is my busy season. Do you really think it’s fair to keep Eros Phanes, one of the firstborn, locked up in a cage?”
“It depends on how delusional you are, I guess,” I said, noticing the bow and quiver of arrows on the other side of the room. One-third of the arrows were made of gold with white dove feathers, another third were made of silver with black raven feathers, the last third were made of a dull gray lead and had striped owl feathers.
“Aren’t you a little young for this kind of role play? Why aren’t you in school?”
He thunked his head against the bars. “Great. I’ve been captured by nutters. Do these look delusional?” He turned around and spread his wings: huge, big white feathers, and definitely attached to his back.
“Whoa!” I took off my coat and sat down on the couch before I passed out.
“Yes, luv, that’s right. Cupid is real and he’s me.”
Freaking Cupid was locked in a cage in my living room? I had so many questions running through my head. How did Gus capture Cupid? And where the hell had he gotten a person-sized cage? What kind of BDSM world was he living in, behind my back?
“You’re actually…really…Cupid?” I asked, feeling like my brain was underwater.
“Hallelujah, give the girl a prize,” Aunt Tillie chimed in from the skull.
Eros turned to face me. “Let me out and I’ll make it worth your while. Do you know the things I can do for a human?”
“I can just imagine. Look, I’m pretty sure if Gus locked you in a cage, he’s got a reason. And before I let you go, I’d really like to hear it. So, why don’t you just sit down, enjoy the warmth of the fire, and relax? We’ll straighten this all out when he gets back.”
“That’s not a fire, that’s my torch,” Eros said, sounding pissed.
I looked at the fireplace again. Sure enough, the flame was coming from a phallic-looking torch, laying on its side.
“I’ve never seen any pictures of you carrying a flaming penis,” I said.
“It’s not a penis, it’s a torch. It enflames and engorges hearts with love. Isn’t it a pretty torch?” he asked, in a soft sing-song voice. “Look at how beautiful the fire is…the brilliant blue…the dancing orange and yellow flames…can you feel the beat of the dance?…It’s a dance of love…open your heart to its music…”
I could feel myself being sucked into the dance of the flames and a child-like wonder, awe and joy filled me. I felt like I wanted to embrace the universe, to fall in love with the next person who walked into my world… Maybe Eros…the god of love and lust and…what would it be like to kiss the god of love?
I made an effort and wrenched my gaze away from the fire, keeping my back to Eros, so I didn’t see him in his cage.
“You little shit. You knock the mindfuck off right now, or I’ll chuck your entire quiver of arrows into the fire.”
“That won’t stop me.”
“It’ll sure as hell slow you down. And you’ll have to explain to your mummy how her creepy little boy lost all his weapons.”
He sighed and slammed his hand against the bars. “Fine.”
I felt the weird, supernaturally imposed feelings of love and lust and joy withdraw, leaving a cold anger in its place.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” I said, glaring at the teenaged Eros.
“Whatever,” he replied, his lip curling up in a look of disdain. “Typical human. You’d rather wallow in the muck rather than be uplifted by love.”
“No, I’d rather wallow in honest emotions, rather than have some supernatural brat pulling my strings. There’s a difference.”
“Fine, you want honest? How about a straight-forward bargain. Let me go, and I’ll give you one of my feathers.”
“O-o-o-kay,” I drawled. “And I would do that why?”
“Do you have any idea what you can do with one of Cupid’s feathers?”
“Use it as a sex toy?” I guessed.
He thunked his head against the bars. “Morons. I’ve seriously been kidnapped by morons. I’m never going to live this down.”
Just then, the door opened, a swirl of snow spilling into the room, and Gus walked in with a grocery bag. When he saw me standing there, his eyes widened. “Oh, crap.”
“Get in here, Gus,” I said, in my best pissed-off Ricky Ricardo imitation, “you got some splainin’ to do.”
* * *
“Don’t look at me like that, this is all his fault,” Gus protested, setting down the groceries and taking off his parka.
“What did I do? You’re the clumsy idiot who fell on top of me with an open container of salt. Who does that?”
“Hey, if you were better at your job, I shouldn’t have been able to see you, much less salt you,” Gus said.
“Well, bully for you. You got me. Now let me go.”
“No freaking way.”
Oh, geez. What the hell were we supposed to do with Cupid in a cage?
“Listen to me, Gus, I know you’re a little eccentric, but even you can’t keep a guy in a cage indefinitely. Irritating mythological entity or not.”
“That’s right. Listen to the porky dolly,” Eros chimed in. “She’s talking sense.”
“Excuse me?” I said, glaring at him. “I’m not porky, I’m pregnant. This is baby weight.”
“My mistake. What are you giving birth to? A cricket team?”
“Listen, you little twerp,” I said, advancing on him. “You’d better shut it or…”
“Or what? You’re going to sit on me? Oh, I’m scared now.”
I looked at him, irritated. “Maybe you should bone up on the whole baby and pregnancy thing, before you throw arrows of lust at people.”
Eros snickered. “Trust me, luv. I know all about boners and babes. Boners, babes, bikinis. Bisexual babes on bicycles, riding the boner highway. I’ve had them all.”
I looked at Gus. “I’m going to kill him. Is that why you locked him in the cage? He got lippy?”
“The wanker salted my feathers. A whole freaking container. Who does that? Especially on Valentine’s Day?” Eros fumed. “Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take me to get all that salt out? I’m knackered just thinking about it.”
“I suggest you get started. Unless you want me to bring in the garden hose.” Gus said.
Eros gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
“This is not the way to treat an honored guest,” Eros said. “I will be filing a complaint, you can be sure of that.”
Gus rolled his eyes. “Shut it or you get nothing to eat.”
“You’re lucky I’m feeling peckish,” Eros muttered.
“If you weren’t so insistent on only eating the food of love you would have been fed an hour ago.”
“It’s not my fault you didn’t have anything edible.”
“Well, that’s one thing I would agree with Cupid on,” I said. Ever since Gus moved in, he’d turned into a culinary tyrant.
Gus gave me a sideways look. “Do you know what kind of looks you get at the grocery store when you go in asking for the food of love?”
“It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m sure they’re used to it.” I peeked in the bag. Chocolate-covered strawberries, sparkling apple cider, champagne, oysters, figs, pomegranates, whipped cream… “So not fair. If I bring home chocolate and whipped cream, you have a conniption fit.”
“When you can fly faster than the speed of light, we’ll talk,” Gus said to me.
He put together a tray for Eros, opened a trap door, and slid it in the cage. Eros lunged, his mouth open, ready to fasten his teeth on Gus’s hand.
Gus quickly withdrew, closed the trap door and locked it, then pocketed the key.
“Will you tell me why we have Aphrodite’s demon spawn trapped in our living room?”
“Not here,” Gus said, and grabbed me by the hand.
* * *
Gus dragged me down the hall to what used to be Aunt Tillie’s music room/library.
Once we were in there, he shut the door and sat me down. “That little imp has been fucking around with us like crazy.”
“Really? I mean, things have been kind of weird—okay, maybe really freaking bizarro world weird—but…do you really think it’s because of him?”
“I’m telling you, that overgrown flying insect in there has been setting us up. Remember that crap-ass date you had with Paul? I think that’s where it all started.”
Chapter Two
Paul and I had gone out on an impromptu date yesterday, to see if we couldn’t rekindle the passion. After all, we were going to be parents soon, so if we could actually be a couple, that would make life a lot easier.
We were standing in front of the movie theater, in line for tickets, discussing which movie we should go see. It was cold and snowing—big wet flakes. And it was a long line. And maybe that’s why we were so cranky. At least, that’s what I had thought.
“Ow!” Paul turned to me, his hand going up to his neck. “Did you just pinch me?”
“What?” But then I felt it too. “Ow! What the hell? It’s too freaking winter for mosquitoes.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not,” I protested. “I just felt it too. Maybe it was a piece of rock salt from the street?”
Paul frowned at me, then he looked at the street. “Forget it. What do you want to go see? I’m thinking action.”
“What about action comedy? That new Melissa McCarthy film?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“What’s wrong with Melissa McCarthy? I love her.”
“When I go to a movie theater, it’s because I want to see something huge and cinematic. Something that can’t be replicated on a smaller screen. Something epic. War, outer space, man vs. nature. I’m not going to waste my money watching something I can see on cable.”
I wiped my runny nose with my glove. I was really starting to hate winter. Everything seemed to be in a permanent state of cold, windy, icy and wet.
“When I go to the movies, it’s because I want to have fun and laugh or be moved and get involved in a story.”
He shrugged. “There’s got to be something we can agree on. There’s a new horror film I’ve been wanting to see.”
“Is it gory?”
“It’s a horror film.”
“Not all horror films are gory.”
He gave me a look.
“Scream was a fun horror film.”
“What is it with you and comedies? No, it’s a horror film. Not a horror comedy.”
“Then forget it. I am not going to sit there and watch people being tortured. There’s got to be some non-gory movie you can pick.”
“Sitting in one of your chick flicks is going to be torture for me,” he muttered.
I glared at him. “That’s such a load of crap. The Green Bay Packers love chick flicks. And they’re like, big freaking macho men. I think you can sit through one non-gory, non-violet, non-epic, character-driven movie.”
“I’d rather stab myself in the foot with a pitchfork.”
It was everything I could do not to let the thought “you’re a total ass” get out of my head and into the air. “Tell you what, why don’t we go to separate movies and mark this as a non-date instead?”
“Sounds good to me,” he said.
And that’s just what we did. My movie ended before his did, so instead of waiting around, I texted Gus. When he didn’t answer, I gave up and called a cab.
* * *
By the time I got home, I was livid and the cottage was stinky.
“Oh my Goddess, what the hell happened in here? Are you cooking with asafoetida?” I asked, opening every window I could. Asafoetida was a noxious herb otherwise known as Devil’s Dung—for a reason. “Where are the Dobies? And why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“Hey, you’re not the only one who has a life, y’know.” Gus said. “You need to chill out before you have an aneurysm. The Dobies are at the groomers. The idiots dug out a skunk den. Do you know skunks don’t actually hibernate? They’re just in a deep sleep. You know what wakes them up? Dobies wanting to be their friends. You can extrapolate the glorious smells from there. There is not enough air freshener in the world. I told the groomer to keep them until they are totally deskunkified. We’re paying her to board them for a bit.”
I groaned.
“I don’t want to hear it. No matter how bad your day was, I can guarantee you mine was worse. Even Tillie won’t come out of her skull because of the stink.”
“That doesn’t sound all bad,” I said. “I know how much you love spending time with Aunt Tillie.”
Gus grimaced and went to the kitchen to make us hot chocolates.
When the doorbell rang, I didn’t think anything of answering it. I figured it would be an apologetic Paul.
It wasn’t.
It was Forrest.
Gus’s ex-boyfriend.
Otherwise known as The Devil.
And I don’t mean that in a metaphoric sense.
* * *
“What are you doing here?” I asked, as Forrest pushed his way into the living room, a bouquet of exotic wildflowers in one hand. “Did Hell run out of minions to torture?”
“I’m hurt at how little you know of me,” Forrest said, hand to his heart in an aggrieved gesture. “I would never torture minions. Well… maybe sometimes. But Hell has a never-ending supply.” He grinned a sharp-toothed grin at me.
“Gus!” I shouted. “You have a visitor!”
“What the devil is going on when I’m not home? I couldn’t find a single marshmallow. Did you eat the entire bag?” Gus walked out of the kitchen, holding our cocoas.
“There you go, taking my name in vain,” Forrest smiled.
Gus almost dropped the drinks. I quickly took them from him and set them down on a table.
“What are you doing here?!” Gus asked. “You’re not welcome here anymore. Your invitation’s been rescinded.”
Forrest threw his head back and howled with laughter. “My dear boy. You must have mistaken me for a vampire. I don’t need an invitation.”
“Is there an actual point to you being here, other than to torment us?” I asked.
I half-heard a giggle and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow flit past.
Forrest slapped his neck with his free arm as he looked over at me.
His eyes widened and he smiled a slow, sensuous smile. “I’m here for you, darlin’.”
He held out a bouquet of flowers, then he reached behind his back with his other hand and pulled a box of candy out of thin air.
“The finest organic chocolates, sprinkled with morning dew and filled with a delicate nectar-soaked ambrosia. One bite will grant you immortality.”
“Oh, no.” I said, backing up until I hit the coffee table. “I’ve had enough of your gifts to last me a lifetime.”
“It’s the least I can do for someone destined to become my Queen,” Forrest said.
“You’re looking at the wrong one of us. The only queen interested in you, is him.” I said, gesturing at Gus.
Gus looked so angry, steam was practically coming off of him.
“He doesn’t look interested. He looks angry,” Forrest observed.
“Yeah, no kidding. Six weeks ago, you were my boyfriend. Mine.” Gus said. “Now you’re what? Switching sides? Just, poof, it’s that easy? Now, you’ve suddenly got the hots for Mara?”
Forrest looked at Gus and his eyes glowed red with irritation. A deep voice erupted from him—a voice that clearly belonged to the Lord of the Underworld, and he seemed to grow larger as he spoke. “I. AM. THE. DEVIL. DO NOT LABEL ME. SEXUAL BOUNDARIES AND GENDER IDENTITIES ARE A CONSTRUCT OF YOUR WORLD. NOT MINE.”
Forrest took a deep breath, his eyes returned to normal—as did his voice—and he took my hand and kissed the back of it. “You will be mine, of this I have no doubt. You will rule by my side.”
Then he looked at Gus. “And you will keep your imprint off of her. Do you understand me?”
“My imprint? What am I, a publisher?”
“Your body, your stink, your desires,” Forrest growled.
“No problem. Gay, remember?”
