by R. E. Vance
“Here, give it to me,” she said, as her eyes started to glow. “I will dry it.”
“No,” I said with a little too much vigor. “No,” I repeated, calmer the second time around. “Please don’t burn time. Especially not for me.”
“But Jean—your jacket is wet, and you can’t go down there in just a T-shirt.”
“I know,” I sighed. She was right. “Come on, I have an idea.”
Chapter 10
Lights, Camera, Spying
I knocked on Astarte’s door. From behind it I heard some shuffling, before an unsure nasal voice said, “Yes?”
Brian. “Open up,” I said. “It’s Jean-Luc.”
“Ahhh, Astarte’s not here,” Brian said, and I could actually hear him swallow.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” he said in an uncertain voice that told me he knew exactly where she was.
“Look, I need to borrow something. I’m sure Astarte will be fine with it. Please open up.”
“No.”
“Brian,” I said in a threatening tone.
I actually heard a gulp through the door. “No, she’ll get mad at me.”
“I’ll get mad at you,” I said.
“So?” he said, clearly weighing the consequences of angering a human hotelier versus a tantalizing, “make your dreams come true” succubus. I was losing.
“Come on, Brian … open up right now, or I’ll—”
“Huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your door down,” said a sultry voice with a hint of a Parisian accent. “Really, Jean, you can be quite dramatic sometimes.” Astarte sauntered past me and opened her door.
I prepared for the worst—or best, depending on your perspective. Astarte regularly hosted orgies and her room was a cornucopia of dildos, sex swings and PCP. I figured we’d be walking into a jungle of silicon, inviting throw pillows and shisha pipes lit with apple tobacco that may or may not be spiked with certain sensory-enhancing drugs. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if we walked in to see a river of honey and a fountain of milk.
But we didn’t walk into the ultimate geisha den—we walked into a well-lit, cold computer lab. There were desktops, laptops, tablets and a heavy-duty camera that pointed—pointedly—at the bed. Webcams, HiDef digital cameras and just about every kind of lens you could imagine. I doubt someone could move an inch here without having every spasm, twitch or jerk being recorded.
And then there were monitors. Monitors that displayed every kind of fantasy I’d ever had and didn’t know I had. Orgies, sure, but other, harder stuff that made Fifty Shades of Grey seem like a children’s book. People tied upside down, right-side up and sideways. Bodies plugged into bodies as mouths curled in unsmiling joy.
The noise that greeted us was an orchestra of moans, groans and elation—homages to gods now long gone—and the ever faithful, classic exclamations of “I’m coming!”
Brian sat in the middle, wearing a headset that covered his eyes. His hands were out in the air like he was cupping something right in front of him.
I turned to Medusa, feeling my face flush with the remaining blood. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “If you want to wait outside, maybe that would be best.”
Medusa looked at the screens as though she didn’t hear me. Astarte heard me. “Don’t be such a prude, Jean-Luc,” she said, approaching Medusa. Marty met Astarte, but instead of giving her his typical hiss, he curled around her hand, his serpentine expression clearly one of familiar, old joy. “Medusa and I are old … friends. Remember?” The last word hung in the air.
Now it was Medusa’s turn to be embarrassed. “That was a long time ago,” she said quickly. She was thinking of the night she spent in Astarte’s room. I knew from Astarte that nothing happened, but Medusa didn’t know that I knew. Then, looking at me, she said, “When I was younger and in my … ahhh … experimental years,” evidently talking about an incident that happened pre-Jean-Luc, and possibly pre-Christ.
“Honey, when your experimental years are over, so are you,” Astarte said, pointing at me like she was deciding what kind of cone she wanted for her ice cream.
“What is this place?” Medusa asked. “It reminds me of the Hall of Mirrors.”
“Better. It’s the window to all knowledge. And it’s what the humans worship now.”
“Of course,” Medusa said, obviously following the conversation better than I was.
“Through these portals I will start my empire anew.”
“Empire?” I asked. Her eyes met mine, and I gave her my best “Yeah, right” look. “And how will you do that?”
“By making a … a … It Support!” Astarte turned to Brian. “What am I building?”
“Not ‘it’ support—IT Support. I. T. And you’re building a website. With a landing page!”
“Yes—a website. I shall do all this with a website.”
I rolled my eyes. “OK, Zuckerberg.” I looked over at the monitors. “What’s that?” I pointed at one of the screens.
Brian turned it off. “Nothing,” he said.
“No … turn that back on.” Brian hesitated and looked over at Astarte. I hooked my forefinger under his chin and brought his gaze up to mine. “Now!”
He gulped and flipped a switch. The screen flickered to life, and an image of the hotel lobby popped up. Others were walking in, being guided downstairs to the gala by the gargoyle ushers. “That’s happening now,” I muttered, before the realization of what was going on dawned on me. I turned to Astarte. “You put up hidden cameras in the hotel?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Then how are we watching what’s going on downstairs?”
“I didn’t put up the cameras. IT Support did.”
“Because,” I barked, “you told him to!”
I turned on the human IT Support and in a guttural tone of pure rage growled, “Her, I get. As an Other, her moral compass is all over the place. But you, Brian … you know better. How many cameras?” Brian hesitated. “How many?”
“Two.”
“Two,” I repeated.
“Hundred.”
“Two hundred hidden cameras in my hotel!” There were seven floors with eleven rooms on each. There was a lobby, a kitchen, a utility room and a banquet hall. In total, eighty-one separate places. Even if some of the larger areas had a couple cameras, that still didn’t break a hundred. “Where?” I asked.
“Where?” Brian gulped. “Everywhere, really.”
“And where is everywhere, exactly?”
“All the rooms.”
“All seventy-seven guest rooms?”
Brian nodded.
“My room?” Brian nodded again. “The bathrooms?” Brian gulped before nodding.
I took a deep breath, then another one, before counting to ten and reminding myself that killing an Other—as ridiculous as she was—would get me in jail. “OK,” I said, keeping my tone as even as I could. “After the gala is over and all the guests leave, you are to take down each and every camera.”
“But Jean-Luc,” Astarte protested, “my empire needs eyes.”
“Each and every one.” I met Astarte’s stare. “Each and every one,” I repeated. “Understood?”
“But—”
“Understood?”
Brian and Astarte nodded.
“Good. Until then, you are not to watch any of them.”
“I guess I should turn off the recording,” Brian said.
“I guess so,” I said. “Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to borrow some evening attire.”
Chapter 11
Shake It, Baby!
Astarte clothed me in a bright white tuxedo with black-rimmed lapels and glittery, Wizard of Oz style, ruby red shoes. Apparently it was the only clothing that she had in my size, not that she let me see what else she had. But as soon as I got into the gala dining room I realized that I was a sore thumb in a sea of even sorer thumbs.
The Millennium Hotel’s ballroom was brimming with Others, each
dressed like they’d just returned from Burning Man. Dwarves wore fluorescent faux fur, valkyries were draped in purple satin, minotaurs had golden horns, fairies trailed glitter, angels floated halos, demons dripped blood. They were a swirl of color, creed and chaos.
Other aromas filled the room. Smells that each species coveted, but to a human nose were overwhelming and confusing. Frankincense and burnt wood, lavender and peat, vanilla and hay—the perfumes and colognes of the Other world.
And the room! By the GoneGods, I had no idea that this space could look so golden. Fake Roman columns pretended to prop up the ceiling. Immaculate silk tablecloths covered dining tables set with silver plates, crystal glasses and intricate centerpieces that looked like crystallized spheres encrusted in silver and gold. A giant amethyst vat the size of a witch’s cauldron sat at the center of the stage for the podium—it was truly beautiful, and although it was on the other side of the room, I swore I could hear it hum. As for the room itself, gilded chairs were thoughtfully positioned around it to provide an unobstructed view. Little bubble machines blew out bubbles, and the sound of ocean waves wafted about the room. Every detail pointed to one theme—“Under the Sea”—and I felt like I was walking into a room whose decorating committee was composed of Ariel, SpongeBob SquarePants and Aquaman.
“Look.” Medusa pointed at the stage, at the statue of a man in a toga holding a trident and wearing a crown with an apple-sized ruby. “That’s actually Poseidon’s crown and trident.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Are you kidding? Poseidon carried that thing with him everywhere he went. I’m surprised he didn’t take it with him. As for the crown—I gave him that ruby. Actually, I gave him three, but I guess there was only room for two in his bags.” She forced a chuckle.
“Wow,” I said, staring at the stone marvel and wondering how the hell they got something so big and heavy into the ballroom without damaging anything. Even the lamps had been replaced with illuminated crystals that hung on the walls.
“Oooh, my!” Medusa said, pointing up at the chandelier that looked like frozen lightning, each electric tip piercing into a diamond of light.
“Those lightbulbs are magnificent,” I said.
Medusa giggled. “They’re not lightbulbs, silly. They’re stars.”
“Excuse me … Did you say ‘stars,’ as in celestial bodies that hang in the sky?”
Medusa giggled. “Yes, stars, as in big gaseous orbs not dissimilar to Earth’s sun.”
“And how did he manage to make a chandelier from stars?”
“How else? Magic,” she mused. Then, as if lightbulbs made from stars were only mildly interesting, she pointed to the far end of the room. “Oh, look. We’re on TV.” She pointed at the three TV cameras from local stations set up in the back. Apparently the party of the year was to be televised. Locally.
The TV cameras made me a bit nervous, but The BisMark said he’d shield me, and I believed him. Besides, I figured the risk of an old Army buddy recognizing me was quite low. I was supposed to have been burned to a crisp by dragon fire, not hanging out in a white tuxedo in the middle of an Others’ party.
Danger aside, I hated this. I was many things, but a gala attendee I was not. I pulled at my cummerbund in discomfort.
“What’s wrong?” Medusa asked.
“I hate these things.”
“You’re just nervous,” she said, fishing in her purse. She pulled out a pack of gum. “I always have one of these when I’m nervous. I find that chewing calms me down.”
She popped out the gum and put it in my mouth, her fingers delicately lingering on my lips a little too long as our eyes locked. By the GoneGods, her hazel eyes were beautiful. But as was our habit, we both turned away, embarrassed, trying to think of something sexually neutral to say. She found it by handing me the rest of the pack. “For later,” she said.
“Thanks.” I chewed on the spearmint gum, and I had to admit, the cool flavor was comforting, but it didn’t fix what I wanted fixing. I stared down at the ridiculous ruby red shoes Astarte gave me and clicked the heels. “What are you doing?” Medusa giggled.
“Trying to get home.”
“It won’t work,” said a polished voice. “I’ve been clicking my heels since I arrived onto this plane of existence. Medusa, how are you?” Miral approached Medusa with a grace that would have made a prima ballerina assoluta look awkward and clumsy in comparison. The angel Miral was seven feet tall and stunning. A truly beautiful being in every way. Over the last few years, Miral had dedicated her life to helping Others and now ran the St. Mercy’s Hospital with selfless dedication. Of all the Others I have known, Miral possessed the most humanity, and for that alone I owed a lot to the angel.
She leaned in to kiss Medusa on the cheek. Marty got between them and took the kiss on his scaly green head. “Marty! Behave,” admonished Medusa. “Sorry about that. How are you, Miral?”
“I’m well. Surprised to have been invited to the gala, but honored nonetheless.”
“I know what you mean. I was so pleased that Jean-Luc invited me.”
“Indeed.” Miral glared at me. The former captain of Heaven’s army, Miral was one of the first Others I met in Paradise Lot. At the time she had been working for Bella, and she knew me well. She also knew whom my heart still belonged to.
I gave Miral my best “Sorry, I know I screwed up” look and said, “Where’s your plus one?”
“Right here,” said a deep male voice. I looked over to see a beautiful man with a chiseled jaw walk in and put his hand on the small of Miral’s back. Officer Conner wore a traditional black tuxedo that made him look like James Bond—only sexier.
“Officer Conner,” I said. “Nice to see you … again.”
“I thought that if we were to have a new human policeman, he should know what Paradise Lot was really about,” Miral said.
“Indeed,” I echoed. “And Michael. Where is he?” I was referring to the archangel Michael and the current police chief.
“That bore. All he’ll do is brood and lament and, if I’m really lucky, bellow. No, thank you. I’m here to have fun.”
“Have you been to one of these before?”
Miral nodded. “Six thousand years ago. When we—”
“Atlantis?”
“I see she told you. Not my proudest moment. You be good, Jean-Luc. Medusa isn’t as worldly wise as the rest of us.”
“And you are?” I said, eyeing Conner.
“Ohh, Jean, he’s here to do some good. Besides, have you seen those eyes? You could get lost in them.” Miral gave me a devilish grin and, extending her arm, took Conner to their table.
↔
Astarte walked in with Greg on her arm. He still wore his Jedi cloak and had the biggest smile on his face. So Astarte found a date. I was a bit surprised that it was Greg—especially after that warning he gave me—but seeing how he beamed ear-to-ear, I knew what had happened. It’s what always happens with Astarte.
Greg gave me a sheepish look as he passed by me. “You know I stayed home on prom night, but I’m not at home anymore! The Force is with me!”
I had to give it to Greg—he went from a geek to all of this. I was happy for my fellow nerd. I thought about what Miral said and looked over at Medusa. Let him who is without sin cast the first stone. I wasn’t throwing anything tonight.
The lights went dark, and the ushers guided us to our table. Then with a flash and a bang the room went black, before a pinpoint of light appeared on the stage. A zip-line was shot in its center as controlled white flares blazed up. With a “Woop! Woop!” a figure zipped across the ballroom and jumped on the stage as hundreds of pixies riding hummingbirds flitted after him, each emitting a smoke trail of a different color.
The BisMark performed an acrobatic tumble and popped up, his hands in the air. He was dressed in the same suit he wore before, and his peacock feathers shined in the light. “Wooow!” he cried out to the elation of the crowd. “How is everyone on this ni
ght?” He addressed the crowd with a showmanship that was opposite of the reserved, coldly logical creature I met earlier. I guess when he said that he was here to put on a show, he meant it.
The crowd erupted, and suddenly I felt like I had no business being in the middle of this. I just couldn’t share the elation that they were feeling.
Still, I doubted that my glum nature could spoil this atmosphere. The BisMark lifted his palms in the air, calming the audience. The room went silent. They waited for him to speak. “What an entrance,” he said. “Give it up for the pixie troop!” The crowd clapped. “Other, oh, Other, this used to be so much easier when I could use magic!” The crowd laughed, and it wasn’t just a giggle. The minotaur next to me fell over in guffaws. “Still, things aren’t so bad. I mean, we have so much, don’t we? A place to live, good food to eat, fine wine to drink. And glitter,” he said, pointing at the fairies. “Lots and lots of glitter!
“But seriously, folks, it hasn’t been all glitter and joy, has it? We were once immortals, and now … well, now we’re inflicted with the worst disease of all—life.” The crowd chuckled. Then The BisMark looked at the cameras and, with a solemn, empathetic voice, said, “But mortality hasn’t been inflicted on us alone. We would do well to remember that all heavens and hells are gone, and now death means exactly the same thing to us, human or not. It is the same end for us all.”
The crowd went into a mournful silence that The BisMark broke by clapping his hands. “But that’s not why we’re here tonight, is it? We’re not here to mourn what we have lost.” He raised a hand in the air and pointed up to the sky. “We’re here for one reason and one reason only. To point to the heavens and say, ‘You may be gone, but LIFE STILL GOES ON!’ ” Everyone cheered. “Is that all you got? Those are elations of the ones who still despair, but we DO … NOT … DESPAIR. Not anymore. I want each and every one of you to scream to the heavens so loudly that they hear us. Tell them … Let them know that they may have left, but LIFE STILL GOES ON!”
