by Amber Benson
“Time to go, Caoimhe,” Morrigan said as she tried to maneuver the other woman out of my orbit.
“You’re just … you’re lovely,” Caoimhe said, the words pouring from her mouth as if she couldn’t contain them.
It wasn’t very often I got a compliment, but I’d learned from Jarvis that the polite thing was to just say thank you. So I did.
“Thank you,” I replied, embarrassed.
“Let’s go,” Morrigan said as she physically had to drag the other woman away.
“Bye, Mortimer!” I called out after them, unable to stop myself from throwing one more potshot at Morrigan’s retreating back.
“What the hell was that all about?” I asked as the two women finally disappeared into the crowd.
“I haven’t the faintest,” Jarvis said, his shoulders loosening. Out from under Morrigan’s thumb again, he had started to relax.
“Bullshit,” I said, but Jarvis didn’t take the bait.
“Okay, whatever,” I said, annoyed that Jarvis was stonewalling me.
I knew the redhead had hit a nerve because he’d been so strangely silent during the exchange, his lips pursed unhappily. But even after I’d defended him against a marauding party, he was still choosing not to elaborate—so whatever the Goddess had on him must’ve been big.
“If you don’t want to share, don’t worry about it,” I continued, coy now. “I’ll just ask Naapi to explain.”
I started to scan the crowd for the Vice-President of North America, knowing it was gonna be hard to pick him out of the crowd, the sea of masks dissolving all individuality.
“No, don’t!” Jarvis said, grabbing my arm. “Morrigan may have been blunt, but she wasn’t wrong. The Bacchanal was real … is still real.”
That got my attention.
“Still real?” I asked, warming to the subject. Jarvis didn’t want to elaborate, that was more than apparent, but he’d already moved past the failsafe point in the conversation, so there was no going back.
“The Bacchanal is how many of the half-breeds are created …” Jarvis said, trailing off. “It is how I was conceived.”
Jarvis looked down at his feet, shame dark in his eyes.
“Jarvis, I didn’t mean—”
He waved me away, his voice low.
“It’s nothing.”
But he was lying. This was obviously a big deal to the ex-faun, something he didn’t want to share with the world, but was now being forced to do by the bitterness of Morrigan’s wrath.
I decided to change the subject, or at least, change the thrust of the conversation.
“So, it still happens, the Bacchanal?”
Jarvis, relieved I wasn’t going to pin him to the wall and watch him wriggle, nodded his head.
“The masks keep one’s identity a secret, so all are equal on this night. Couplings between Gods, humans, and supernatural creatures are encouraged.”
I looked around, noticing for the first time that couples seemed to be pairing off and leaving the dance floor, their masks keeping the hookup totally anonymous.
“Are they going off to have sex?” I sputtered, starting to understand for the first time why Jarvis and I were maskless, why Runt hadn’t wanted to go off and “have fun,” but instead was sticking to my side like glue.
Jarvis perked up, smelling blood in the water.
“Shall I get you a mask then, Miss Calliope?” he sang, enjoying my unease, milking it for all it was worth.
“Shut up,” I seethed.
“But don’t you want to have anonymous sex with a stranger?” Jarvis said, his eyes brimming over with glee.
“No, I do not—” I shot back.
“But you really seemed to want one of those lovely golden masks—”
I took the opportunity to punch Jarvis in the shoulder, hard.
“You win,” I growled. “So shut up now.”
The night had soured on me, the beauty of the cave and its glorious artwork tainted by all the crazy sex I imagined people having in the shadowy corners and hidden nooks. The candles weren’t just for ambience; their flickering incandescence was being used as a tool to keep the sex stuff secret, and the music I’d been enjoying was only a cover-up for all the grunting and grinding.
Ugh … so not my cup of tea.
“How long do we have to stay here?” I asked, feeling kind of dirty just being in the cave. I wasn’t a prude—far from it—but orgies were not in my repertoire.
“Eleven fifteen is the earliest we can get away with departing,” Jarvis replied, the look on his face telling me he was feeling just as skeevy about the evening as I was.
My mind was reeling, unable to focus on anything but the sex I knew was happening nearby. I wondered how my dad had dealt with this kind of thing—had he been repulsed by it or had he just accepted it as part of the job?
“This must’ve been weird for my dad,” I said. “Standing here all night, knowing what was going on around you.”
Jarvis got noticeably uncomfortable.
“It was a part of your father’s job.”
Well, that’s no kind of an answer, I thought to myself.
“Sure,” I said, not wanting to argue with Jarvis, but sensing once again there was more to the story than my Executive Assistant was willing to share with me. “What about you? You ever partake in the mass orgy?”
Jarvis shuddered, his distaste palpable.
“Never,” he said, a bite to his words. “I would never contribute to something this destructive.”
“How is it destructive?” I asked. “It just seems kind of gross and it’s definitely a repository for a ton of sexually transmitted diseases.”
“Like the Gods care about that,” Jarvis mumbled.
“Sure, they’re immortal, so it doesn’t really affect them,” I agreed. “But the humans and other creatures, they’re susceptible.”
“As I said before,” Jarvis repeated. “Like the Gods care.”
“So, explain to me the destructive part?”
Jarvis sighed, looking down at Runt. He must’ve decided the pup had already heard too much naughty stuff, so what was the point in stopping now.
“The offspring born of this night, they never know who their true fathers are.”
This problem hadn’t occurred to me before, but when Jarvis voiced it, it made sense. Especially when I remembered that Jarvis himself was a member of this fatherless club. I may not have loved everything about my parents, but at least I knew they were my parents.
“You never met your father?” I asked, not wanting to press, but also curious to learn more about my Executive Assistant’s upbringing. Jarvis knew everything about me while I knew absolutely nothing about him—and this was something I wanted to remedy.
“Never. I have no idea who he might be,” Jarvis said, a pained expression on his face.
“Maybe we could find out—” I started to say, but Jarvis cut me off.
“No. No meddling, Calliope Reaper-Jones. My life is perfectly fine as it is.”
I didn’t believe him, but he’d sounded so adamant, I wasn’t going to push it.
“All right, no meddling,” I said, trying to placate his ruffled feathers.
“Thank you.”
“What time is it anyway?” I asked, letting Jarvis off the hook. I was itching for eleven fifteen to arrive as quickly as possible.
“It’s not even ten yet.” Jarvis sighed, looking at his wristwatch.
Why is it when you want time to speed by, it’s as slow as molasses, but when you’re really enjoying something, it goes into overdrive, moving so fast the fun stuff is over before you even know it? Well, this party was going to be a molasses night and there was nothing I could do about it.
Daniel.
His name popped into my head, unbidden. Was he here now, having hot sex with someone—his date, Coy, possibly, or maybe a masked sex bomb he didn’t even know—right under my nose? Oh God, the idea made me sick to my stomach. To my horror, I couldn’t stop m
yself from looking around the cave, trying to catch sight of him in some secluded corner, pounding away.
Stop it! I thought to myself, but the image of Daniel, boffing some nameless girl whose very existence I would detest for all eternity, was burned into my consciousness. No matter what other, happier, thoughts I tried to blot it out with, it just wouldn’t go away.
“What time is it?” I asked Jarvis, barely containing my antsiness.
“Nine fifty-five.”
One hour and twenty minutes of sheer suffering.
“What time is it?”
Jarvis glared at me.
“Nine fifty-six.”
It was going to be a long one hour and nineteen minutes.
eight
At eleven fifteen on the dot, Jarvis, Runt and I took our leave. In the intervening hour and nineteen minutes, the party had really started to heat up, with more couples sexing it down in the darkness than chilling on the dance floor. The band had kicked it up a notch, eschewing the slow songs for the heart rate–accelerating dance hits—probably vibing off the sexually heated atmosphere. Of the caterers, there was no trace, and any alcoholic beverage you might’ve wanted had gone with them.
The masks I’d so envied earlier in the evening had now become only a harsh reminder of the strange new world I’d become embroiled in when I’d taken over my dad’s job—a world where supernatural ritual trumped sexual mores, where children were conceived without the benefit of knowing their parentage. These weren’t the ethics my parents had instilled in me as a child, or the moral lessons I’d learned at boarding school. I mean, I was the kind of gal who was horribly tortured by my one “cheating” mishap—and I’m not even talking full-on intercourse—so being thrust into the middle of masked orgy land was way out of my comfort zone.
Judge not, lest you be judged, right? And I didn’t want to be known as a sanctimonious prude. Maybe this wasn’t the lifestyle choice I wanted for myself, but it seemed to work for some people and who was I to condemn them? I mean, I’d been a party to a cheating episode, so I was guilty of being naughty, too.
“Do we have to do anything? Or can we just go?” I asked Jarvis as he checked his watch for the final time, nodding happily at what he saw.
“Best to go now while they’re otherwise engaged,” he said, ushering Runt and me toward the exit. “They’ll be finished soon enough as it is.”
The loud music pounding in my ears, I gave the crowd a faux military salute.
“Thanks for a great time,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my tongue.
Sick of the dress I was wearing and disappointed in my first All Hallows’ Eve “Eve” Ball experience, I decided this wasn’t an event I looked forward to hosting again in the future. Maybe I could talk Kali into running it for me next year. She was good at getting her hands dirty and a master at carnage, so I knew hosting an orgy would be right up her alley.
Speaking of the Hindu Goddess of Death and Destruction, I realized I hadn’t seen her or any of the other Death, Inc., executives since the ball had begun. They’d been around for the first few minutes of the initial meet and greet, but once that’d petered out, they’d disappeared and I wondered if they, too, had gone off to partake in the “fun.”
As for Daniel, I didn’t even want to think about him anymore. I’d been obsessing about my ex nonstop since I’d realized what was going on around me. I finally decided if he really was out there in the groping throng getting his hands—and other body parts—dirty, then I didn’t want to know about it. The only thing that had saved me from an out-and-out breakdown was the fact that a few of the masked revelers hadn’t joined in when the sex-jinks had started, but instead had remained on the dance floor, drinking and enjoying themselves without disrobing. My hope was that Daniel had been among this levelheaded minority. Of course, with sexpot Coy as his date, I had to admit to myself that this wasn’t a very likely scenario.
“Let’s go, Cal,” Runt said, nuzzling her snout against my hand, silently encouraging me to stop scanning the crowd for Daniel and Coy—not like I’d be able to tell it was them with their masks on, but I just couldn’t help myself.
“Okay,” I said absently, my eyes still locked on the crowd. I knew she was right, that I was torturing myself by remaining in the cave any longer than I needed to, but it was so hard to drag my eyes away.
I scanned the dance floor one more time, just in case, but if I thought I was going to have my jealous feelings resolved one way or the other, well, I was sadly mistaken. Runt pressed her wet, heart-shaped nose against my palm and I patted her head, her soft fur a balm against all the nauseous emotions roiling around my gut.
“Calliope?” Jarvis said, his words breaking through my obsessive thoughts.
I gave him a pleasant smile, one I hoped would mask all the turmoil I was feeling, but Jarvis was a sharp little bastard and knew exactly what was going on.
“Calliope, I think it’s best if we go now. You have a long night ahead of you, and you need to prepare.”
Jarvis and Runt were right. I needed to get my head on straight and stop trying to control something I had no power over. My dad would never have gotten mired down in something as petty as whether or not Daniel was doing the nasty. He would’ve put the job ahead of any romantic notions of love or destiny—and if I was going to be as good a Death as he was, then I was going to have to stop being such a putzhead.
“All right,” I said, shoving any thoughts of Daniel out of my mind as I followed Jarvis and Runt toward the shimmering wormhole.
“Let’s get the hell outta Dodge.”
the trip back to our room was uneventful. We passed through the wormhole without incident, though I noticed both Jarvis and Runt scoping the scene as they led me out of the cave and into the overcast gloom of the Central California night. There was no one manning the white tent, helping to make sure the partygoers found their way inside. Instead, a tall man in a gray suit and sunglasses, headset plugged into one ear, was waiting for us just beyond the shadow of the tent, his face as hard as granite. He nodded to Jarvis as we passed then fell into step behind us.
It was disconcerting to be dogged by the cold mercenaries Jarvis had hired to guard us and I wondered out loud where he had found them.
“They come highly recommended,” Jarvis whispered as he glanced back anxiously at the man trailing us. “They were in Iraq and Afghanistan. Extremely skilled at the art of warfare—and bloodthirsty.”
“Are you sure these are the kinda guys you want guarding us?” I asked, uncertainty giving buoyancy to my words.
“That’s exactly why I wanted them guarding you,” Jarvis replied, his tone brooking no argument.
I sighed. As disturbing as it was to be shepherded along in the darkness by a man wearing sunglasses (this wasn’t a goddamned Corey Hart video, people), I guess it was better than the alternative. I really didn’t want to have to deal with a surprise Ender of Death attack, especially now, when I was in such an emotionally vulnerable state.
Runt stuck to my side the whole way back to the room. I could tell she didn’t like the bodyguard situation, either. She believed she could do a much better job of protecting me than any human could—and she was probably right.
“We’re almost there, Cal,” she said, trotting along beside me, her dark coat causing her to blend in with the night, leaving only the tapetum lucidum of her eyes visible in the darkness.
“Once we get inside, I suggest you put the, uhm, book somewhere safe,” Jarvis whispered as we crossed paths with the bodyguard standing watch over the entrance to our suite. He nodded at Jarvis as we passed, but otherwise he didn’t move a muscle as his compatriot joined him at the door.
I waved at the men just to annoy Jarvis, but I quickly dropped my hand when my Executive Assistant glared at me.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, holding the door open so Jarvis and Runt could follow me inside.
“I’m freezing,” I said through chattering teeth as I grabbed the coverlet off my bed and threw i
t over my shoulders, beginning to warm up immediately. My flimsy dress had left a lot of my skin exposed to the elements, so in just the few minutes it’d taken us to walk back from the tent, I’d started to shiver.
I rubbed my hands together until they’d lost their chill, then I dropped the coverlet back onto the bed, rooting around inside the bodice of my dress until I found the book where it had settled in beside my right boob. Snagging the small, square object, I brought it out and held it up to the light so I could study it.
“It’s so small,” I said, flipping through the pages. “Why make something so important, so small?”
