by Lana Kole
Too bad she was stuck with them forever.
DARIA
Black marble gleamed pristine and beautiful beneath her newspaper. Copper coiled lights hung from the fixtures above her. Quiet chatter filled the peaceful bar. This was Daria’s favorite place to come, to block out all the things in her life and sip on over-complicated drinks and lunch special alcohol.
Girl’s best friend.
“I thought that was diamonds?” the gruff one asked her.
“No, idiot, it’s cats,” Death answered.
And of course, these fucking demons were stuck with her forever. She sighed a little heavier than intended, and winced under the bartender’s long side glance, then avoided her gaze by glaring at the wall beside her. An ad caught her eye and she appreciated the marketing logo meant to get a customer’s attention. “Let us be The Beginning to your night tonight, tomorrow night, and every night after.” Clever.
Frowning, she turned back to her newspaper full of disappointment. Circling, crossing out, and underlining until she thought her pen would run out of ink and her phone would die from researching, she’d narrowed it down to five jobs. Five.
And she’d applied for every damn one of them online.
Another PA. A hostess at a local restaurant. A shoe saleswoman. A secretary, which really, how was that any different than a personal assistant? And an executive assistant... for a fraternity at the local college.
At this point, Daria hardly cared how low she had to stoop to pay the bills. As long as she could tell Jimmy she had a job, and promise him money was coming, he’d let her stay in her apartment. That’s all she needed. Otherwise he might list other acceptable forms of payment.
With a sigh, she slapped her pen down on the paper, and leaned back in her bar stool. Maybe one of these would prove fruitful.
Speaking of... Daria noticed her drink was empty and lifted her glass when the bartender caught her eye. She grinned at the pretty brunette when she came near.
“Another French 75?” she asked. Allegra, according to her nametag, glanced down at the paper Daria had murdered in purple ink before meeting her gaze again.
“Actually, I have a question for you,” Daria said with a silly grin.
Allegra returned her smile and tilted her head in question. “Yeah?”
Pointing to her nametag, Daria resisted the urge to laugh. “Allegra? Like the allergy medicine?”
“If you had any idea how many times a day I get asked that… ” But her laugh was genuine and Daria knew she hadn’t hurt her feelings.
“I’m feeling something a little stronger. Do you know what a Diplomat is?”
For a split second Allegra’s smile tightened, but she nodded and said, “Absolutely! That’ll be just one moment.”
Then she disappeared.
For a... while.
When she came back in sight, she had her cell phone in front of her, and once it was flat on the mixing bar behind the customer partition, Daria saw it had her list of ingredients on the white screen. Her face was no longer cheerful, and now held a mixture of frustration and concentration.
Daria glanced around and noticed all the waiters and waitresses were busy. But she covered her mouth and whispered at the panicked woman.
“Pssst! Allegraaaa!”
Her green eyes bounced to Daria and she placed a customer service grin on her face as she moved closer. “Hey, how can I help?”
“I collect them.” At her confused look, Daria continued with, “The drinks. I collect the weird ones. The recipes, I mean.”
“Oh my God, have you ever spoken to another human before?” the gruff one laughed in her head.
“Shut up! She’s pretty and cute, and she seems really, really nice. I get weird around pretty people!” she hissed to the demons in her head.
Daria refused to learn their names if she didn’t have to. They weren’t real anyway, right?
“If we aren’t real then why are you talking to us?” the light one just had to ask.
She ignored him, focusing back on the dark-haired bartender. The fancy drinks were her guilty pleasure, one she’d indulged in after her career crashed and burned, and by god after the day she’d had, she needed them.
“Oh! Well that’s... cool.” Allegra seemed to think it was the opposite of cool.
“I can tell you how to make it. It’s really not so bad, I promise. Or... you can make me a simple, little, ordinary Cosmopolitan,” she challenged. And Daria bet it would be bright ass pink, just like in the movies. A good cosmo wasn’t supposed to be that bright—more like a blush color or a light rose.
Allegra’s eyes narrowed at the challenge and she leaned back to lock her phone before sliding it into her back pocket. “Hit me.”
“Cocktail shak—” before Daria even finished her words, Allegra grabbed the silver item and slammed it onto the counter. A little too loudly, and it drew the gaze of a customer nearby. She winced and Daria hid her giggle into her hand as she faced the wall.
“Got it,” Allegra whispered.
“Okay, simple, just fill it with ice.”
Swish of silver, a crunch of dipping, and the clink of ice against metal. “Done.”
“Two ounces dry, one ounce of sweet vermouth.”
Allegra turned to the wall of liqueurs and paused for a moment, her finger tapping her cheek. Once she spotted the bottles, she grabbed them and expertly measured and swished them into the shaker.
“Now add two dashes of maraschino liqueur.” Daria indicated the dashes with a pinch of her fingers. “It’s not supposed to be sweet.”
Two splashes later, Allegra turned with a grin.
“Now stir, don’t shake.”
The ice swirled in the shaker, clanking against the sides in a refreshing little harmony.
“Strain it into a chilled martini glass and toss in a little orange peel twist.”
Allegra reached under the bar to pull out a glass, frost condensed on the outside, and strained the pale copper liquid into her glass. The garnish was sliced and balanced over the rim, and the drink was placed on the marble bar in front of her.
Daria took a sip and winked before she told her job well done.
“Just be happy I didn’t order the Commonwealth.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I dare you.”
“What? 71 ingredients? That’s nothin’.”
Allegra rolled her eyes before greeting the woman that walked up. After she served her a mimosa, she came back over and glanced at her artwork again.
“You know, we have a job opening.”
Daria’s heart fluttered in her chest. “Really?”
“Mhmm... ”
“Allegra, don’t play with me. I don’t care if it’s washing dishes—”
“It’s not. We need another happy hour bartender for the evenings. I assume you can make a lot of drinks like that?”
“Absolutely! And I’m really great with customers.” Daria tried not to seem so eager, but her heart was flipping in her chest and for once the demons seemed quiet. They weren’t telling her when Allegra would die, so she took it as a good sign.
“Well, let me grab an application, be right back.”
Daria took a deep breath when the bartender disappeared around the corner and then frowned at the martini sitting in front of her. When Allegra returned, Daria gripped the papers with fingers just shy of desperation and glanced coolly at the glass in front of her.
“So, it doesn’t bother you that I’m here at two in the afternoon drinking my problems away?”
Allegra laughed before handing her a pen with black ink. “Trust me, after the happy hour shift here at night, you’ll be sleeping well past two in the afternoon. No time to drink.”
Daria grinned and sipped the drink in front of her.
We’ll just see about that.
“So, does this mean I can speak again?” the light one asked as she returned home for the night. The rest of her evening had been... easy, she thought as she went through the motions
to ready herself for bed.
Especially when she considered how she’d first started her day.
“Check back with me tomorrow,” she teased him.
“We could be easy if you wanted us to,” another voice promised.
Rolling her eyes as she turned back the covers on her bed, she otherwise ignored him.
Her stress hadn’t washed off quite as easily as her makeup. And even as soft as her bargain bed was, found at an estate sale months ago, she was still wide awake even as she clicked the light off and the darkness settled around her. Her apartment was quiet, always had been. She didn’t know if she was already getting used to the constant chatter of the guys in her head, but maybe it seemed too quiet.
Not real.
This apartment building was nice, even though it straddled the border between the middle-class neighborhood to the north and the rough edge of town to the south. She didn’t want to leave, and worry swirled inside her and made her stomach cramp as she thought of the interview at the bar the next day.
Mixing drinks was no problem, so she didn’t know why she—
“Has anyone ever said that you worry too much?” Truth hummed through her mind.
Actually yes. Once before, and it was just as warranted as it was right now.
Nope. Not rea—oh, fuck it.
“So… Truth. The lighthearted one?”
“That’s me.”
“Death, obviously… ” The one with the voice like smooth fog.
“Indeed.” A shiver still trailed down her spine at his low tone.
“Who’s the angry one?”
The demons in her head laughed, and before she could stop herself she felt her lips curl into a matching smile.
“Betrayal,” the gruff voice growled, making the others laugh all over again.
“Who am I missing?” Daria tried to pull from her memory information her mother had shared. “There’s five of you?”
“I’m Hope.” The voice that spoke was the same one she’d heard only in front of the mirror, and just a moment ago. He’d called her gorgeous.
“You think you’re going to be easy?” she couldn’t help but tease him.
But Truth was the one who answered, “Well… not easy, but we most certainly can try not to make your life miserable.”
“Easy for you to say,” another voice she’d only heard a few times, laden with despair and dipped in sadness, replied. “I’m Misery. Don’t forget about me. Or do, I don’t care.”
“So... Death, Truth, Betrayal, Hope, and Misery? Am I missing anyone?”
“That’s us.”
Great. They sounded just lovely.
Releasing a slow breath, she clenched her eyes shut in the dark.
This was real.
Which meant… “Is she really dead?” her voice cut through the dark like a knife, even though the question was barely breathed past her lips, and she prayed she was wrong.
“Yes, Daria. She’s gone,” Death answered with a solemn voice, no hint of teasing or joking.
God, how she wished it was all a joke.
“How?”
“Daria, that’s not important—”
“How?” she asked again, teeth gritted as she dared to face the truth.
She needed verbal confirmation, even as the heavy weight of certainty settled deep, emotions shifting and sliding as though the demons were making themselves at home.
Truth’s voice cut through her head, sharp and blunt, a solid punch to the gut. “Freak car accident. Instant death.”
Even though she was already laying down, she sagged against the mattress, the fight going out of her, the hope that it was all a lie finally abandoning her. Tears welled in place of it and she sniffed them back.
You don’t deserve to mourn her, she thought.
“Daria, I know this is a lot to take in, I know how you feel—”
“How could you possibly know how I feel?” she inquired softly, tears finally tracking down her temples to soak into her hair.
They were quiet for a moment, before whispered murmurs bubbled in the background. She could picture them muffling Truth before he said too much, and in spite of the heaviness that threatened to break her heart, she wanted to know what they were attempting to hide from her. A knot of confusion tangled itself and an ache formed behind her eyes.
“We can see what you see, feel what you feel, and experience everything you do.”
Daria sat straight up in the bed. “You can what?” she shrieked.
“Look what you did now! She’s angry!” Misery hissed, and despite it all, her lips twitched at the vehemence.
“Everything?” she spoke aloud, dread growing heavy in her stomach. Her mind raced. Would they really feel everything she did? They truly felt her sadness? Her anger? They’d feel everything. Her sorrow, her annoyance, her happiness, pleasure…
Oh God. They were going to be the ultimate birth control. Her hymen was going to grow back. She’d die a born-again virgin.
“Stop freaking out. We can turn it off and disappear at will. Not indefinitely, but if you needed space or some... private time, we have a way that we can kind of fade away.” Once again, it was Death doing all the explaining, and she wondered how their dynamic worked.
Apparently, Daria needed to ask them a lot of questions.
“Well, it’s good to know that I still have privacy if I need it.”
“Of course. This... curse isn’t a fun one, but it’s bearable. If your mother did it, you can too.”
If your mother did it, you can too.
Yeah, not to mention her mother, and her mother before that…
But what if she couldn’t?
Don’t go there. Not now.
Overwhelmed, Daria needed to be alone. The sweet oblivion of sleep called to her, the black numbness that would, at least for a few hours, allow her to pretend that this wasn’t her life.
“Okay, that’s enough of that. I need to try to sleep, my brain hurts. Uhm... Goodnight?” she murmured to the darkness hesitantly as she settled back down.
There was a pause, as if they wanted to explain more, but they acquiesced, and choruses of goodnight, night, and sweet dreams floated through her head, each in a different timbre of voice. Somehow, Daria knew exactly which one was which.
The sudden silence was almost too much to handle as they faded away. It made her thoughts, her doubts, her emotions too loud, and she tried to swallow against it, but the knot in her throat ached and her sinuses burned before her tears poured over. Hopelessness, sorrow, grief. It all washed over her in the same way her tears washed away what little sanity she had left.
This is crazy.
And Mom hadn’t been.
But Daria felt crazy for entertaining all of this. Everything she’d believed to be lies was all true.
This was her life now.
The depressing thought brought on a new wash of tears, and Daria wondered how her mom had done it for so long. It’d only been one day.
One fucking day.
She was a lot stronger than Daria had ever given her credit for.
The question was, how long would it be before they realized she couldn’t live up to the legacy?
“You look just like her,” Truth whispered through her head.
Her hands faltered and fell to her sides as he spoke, halting her work to tame the frizz into a manageable and tasteful bun.
Daria stared at her blue eyes, puffy from crying, and dark hair that was just this side of wavy, bordering on curls, and gulped. “I do?”
“Yep. You have the same eyes, hair, and even the same nose.”
Daria wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She’d seen pictures of her mother, of course, but maybe she’d never paid close enough attention. Or maybe it was hard to capture their likeness in a still photo.
“Tell me about her?” she requested, not sure she wanted to know now that she was already gone. A pang squeezed her heart and she brought her hands back up to smooth her hair into some
semblance of order.
“Your mom was... a great woman. I mean, we’d been with her for... how many years was it?”
“Something like forty-five years,” Misery answered.
“Yeah, but that’s nothing to you guys, right? I mean, you’ve existed for thousands of years.”
“Sometimes it’s not about the quantity of time you spend with someone, but how you spend it.” Death’s voice was soft and with a certain note to it, one that inspired a pang of hurt. Longing?
“Oh my God, were you in love with her?”
“Dora’s box—no! That’s so—why would you ask something like that?” Death sounded absolutely appalled and Daria barked out a laugh at his stumbling words.
“You just sounded so... ”
“Heartbroken? Yeah, Daria, that happens when someone you care about dies.” His tone cut at her like an expertly wielded knife, and she flinched away from her own image in the mirror.
I don’t deserve to mourn her. The thought crossed her mind again and she couldn’t help but agree wholeheartedly. She’d hardly known the woman outside of written letters, and here these… demons had spent a lifetime with her. Daria had been so caught up in her own crisis—she hadn’t even paused to consider that they might need time to adjust.
To mourn.
Daria hadn’t even given herself time to mourn, and in the next second she felt silly for comparing the two. The bond that the demons must have had with her... Her little notes in the safety-deposit box suddenly seemed like nothing and she blinked away more tears against the buzzing, fluorescent light above her vanity.
“You’ve upset her,” Misery scolded, and an image of dark eyes cutting a stern look at another figure flashed through her mind.
“No, it’s okay. If you guys need time to... should I do anything?” she asked, and switched the light off with the flick of a finger as she left the bathroom, bun tight against her head and pulling her roots taut. A headache was sure to settle soon.
“Daria, your mom loved you. She hated this curse for the sole reason that she couldn’t be with you. Please don’t shortchange your relationship.”
The relationship I ruined? she questioned bitterly, and hoped they didn’t hear her before she spoke again. “It’s fine, but are you? I didn’t even pause to think that you guys might be hurting from her loss even more than… ” She let the thought trail off. Daria didn’t feel like she even had a claim to her mother. The woman hadn’t raised her, hadn’t been there for her first bike rides or dates or kisses or... anything. Her mom had only seen the highlights.
