by Amber Benson
With her honeyed skin, amazing bone structure, and haughty demeanor, Kali pretty much intimidated everyone she came in contact with. Bizarrely, because of our first meeting (I threw a Vogue magazine at her head) and the fact that I couldn’t help calling her on her shit, she and I had developed a rather contentious, but respectful, friendship: She liked to call me “white girl,” and I liked to treat her with a healthy dose of sarcasm, bordering almost on disdain. Seriously, arguing with a hot-headed Indian Goddess just to see her get her panties all in a bunch was almost as much fun as going to a trunk sale at Saks.
“I won our wager fair and square,” Snarly head said, his one yellow eye fixed steadily on Kali.
The other two “cuter” heads weren’t as calm; they both immediately started in with this really irritating high-pitched keening noise, their tongues lolling unhappily out of their mouths.
“I am not here to argue who won what,” Kali said, hand on hip. “So you just calm your big-ass dog-self down.”
Snarly head growled, the sound issuing from low in his throat. Kali reached out her right hand and I watched, enraptured, as the jewels on her fingernails caught the light, reflecting splotches of gold sparkle all around her.
“You just watch who you growl at, stank breath,” Kali said and she smacked Snarly head hard on the top of his nose.
Snarly head reared back in shock—I don’t think anyone had ever dared to reprimand him before—and then like a tiny little puppy, he dropped his head and joined his brethren in their high-pitched, whining serenade.
“Don’t you start whining at me, dog,” Kali continued, incensed by Snarly head’s bad attitude. “You had better listen and quit that bad attitude crap before you really piss me off.”
I had spent enough time with the gorgeous—and pigheaded—Goddess to know that when Kali wanted you to do something, you’d better damn well do it—or else there’d be Hell and a half to pay.
“You’ve been the Guardian of the North Gate of Hell for over, like, three millennia and no one’s ever been displeased with your work,” Kali said, breaking into Board of Death-ese. “Because of your near-perfect record, we are willing to have your position conferred onto another being . . . if that is truly your wish.”
Oh, crap, I thought as I felt the nails of my Afterlife coffin being hammered in place with Kali’s every word. She hadn’t come to rescue me; she’d come to put the official Board of Death seal of approval on the transfer!
I opened my mouth to protest, but Senenmut—whom I had forgotten was even there—stayed my mouth by putting a warning hand on my shoulder.
“Just wait,” he whispered in my ear. “Let it play out.”
I tensed, wanting to do what I wanted and ignore his probably good advice. Instead, I took a deep, calming breath and tried to relax.
“Okay,” I said finally, and Senenmut squeezed my shoulder.
I would do what my Egyptian friend said: I would wait—even if it went against everything I stood for. I was definitely of the act-before-you-think school of getting yourself in trouble, but I did what he said and kept my mouth shut.
In the end, it wasn’t like there was anything I could do about it if Kali decided to sell me out to Cerberus. I had made my own bed and now I was gonna have to lie in it—even if it did smell like wet dog.
“We, of the Board of Death,” Kali continued, looking in my direction now, “will allow you out of your contract, but we will not allow you to forfeit your position to a half-human being.”
Yes! I shrieked inside my brain. Yes, yes, yes! I was saved! Thank you, half-human blood running in my veins!
Never in my life had I been prouder of my half humanness than I was at that moment. I had always valued the human part of myself above all else, and now I was being rewarded for it—yay, me! Then, suddenly, it dawned on me that maybe this half-human thing might’ve saved me from a fate worse than Death, but it wasn’t really a compliment. Maybe because I was half-human, the Board of Death didn’t think I was worthy of being the Guardian of the North Gate of Hell. Maybe I was some kind of maligned half-breed that no one wanted to trust with any of the important stuff.
With that thought now firmly entrenched in my craw, I didn’t know if I was supposed to be celebrating . . . or slicing my wrists—although I meant it only in a figurative way.
“What I’m saying, stank breath,” Kali said, returning to her normal mode of speech, “is that if you want out, we will find someone to replace you. No wager involved.”
The three heads instantly stopped whining as Snarly head rested his monocular gaze back on the Hindu Goddess.
“All you gotta do is say the word, stank breath.”
Snarly head considered his answer for a moment, his fierce, yellow eye never leaving Kali’s face. It was like he expected to find some kind of “catch” in her offer and was quickly trying to weigh every possible outcome to see wherein the deception might lie before he made his decision. The other two heads, more relaxed now that they’d found their escape from eternal toil was still on the table, began to take turns licking their balls.
It was such an incongruous image: Snarly head locked in an intense mental struggle over whether or not to accept Kali’s offer, while his two brother heads blithely took care of their body’s baser needs. Watching the giant, three-headed dog, I was glad that there was only one of me to worry about—and that I didn’t have any balls to lick.
After what seemed like an eternity, Snarly head blinked, signaling that he had made up his mind.
“We accept the offer.”
Kali nodded.
“Then you’re free to get outta here.”
But the huge, three-headed dog didn’t move a muscle.
“We would like to know who, if not Death’s Daughter, will take over our position?”
“What’s it matter to you?” Kali said, her bitchy side coming out in spades. “You don’t give a damn about the job, stank breath.”
Snarly head sighed.
“It matters to us.”
Kali shrugged her shoulders.
“I guess if you really wanna know, stank breath—”
She snapped her fingers.
“Show yourself!”
There was a ripple in the ether around us and suddenly Runt was sitting beside Kali.
“Hi, Dad,” Runt said, her newly born voice as absolutely adorable as the rest of her. She might have only recently learned to talk, but there wasn’t an ounce of insecurity in her words.
“You can talk?” I whispered, feeling like a particularly bad parent because while I’d been traipsing around Las Vegas, Ancient Egypt, and the Afterlife like an itinerant mom, I had neglected to be there to witness her first words.
Argh, it made me want to kick myself!
Runt nodded her head and wagged her tail, proud of her new ability. With her pink halter (the one I had magicked into being for her when we first met) and her dark coat all shiny and soft in the afternoon light, I thought the little hellhound looked so much more like a full-grown dog than a puppy that it made me wanna cry.
“I got my voice early,” Runt said happily. “I think it was from watching the History Channel with Clio.”
I nodded, but once again I felt like a heel for letting Clio be the one who did all the raising of our shared hellhound pup. It was one of the only times in recent memory where I actually found myself wishing that I didn’t live in my Battery Park City apartment. If I lived somewhere less selfish—like Sea Verge, maybe—then I could’ve been the one watching the History Channel with Runt.
“Giselda?” Snarly head said, his one yellow eye popping wide open. “Your voice is beautiful.”
Snarly head was right. Though she was teeny tiny in comparison to her father, there was just something regal and beautiful about the puppy’s voice. In fact, if I had just closed my eyes and listened, I would’ve realized that Runt sounded exactly like Cate Blanchett in that movie where she played Elizabeth, the Queen of England.
So much fo
r the History Channel, I thought. More like the Movie Channel, if you ask me.
My cute little puppy nodded and Snarly head bent down and licked her on the cheek.
“My precious little girl is all grown-up,” Snarly head said jubilantly. The two other heads seemed equally excited by Runt’s vocal maturation, each taking a turn licking Runt’s face and making her giggle.
“Uck, family reunions make me sick,” Kali said, rolling her eyes.
“But why are you here, daughter?” Snarly head said as his gaze passed from Runt to me and then, finally, to Kali. I could tell by the fiendish look in her eye that Kali was enjoying this—increasingly—awkward situation immensely.
“Allow me to introduce you to your new replacement,” my honey-skinned friend said, her dark eyes brimming with black humor.
“Your daughter.”
Snarly head’s one eye flared in barely concealed rage.
“How dare you—”
“How dare I what?” Kali said belligerently, cutting Snarly head off with her quick, offensive retort. “You’re the stank breath who wants out of his contract, so bite me. I get to do whatever I please because your sorry ass made an illegal wager, butt wipe.”
“But I only—” Snarly head started to say, but Kali wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise.
“I let you out of your contract. I did not have you sent to Purgatory, so you better be thanking me instead of arguing with me.”
Snarly head saw the writing on the wall. He knew that no matter what argument he put up, Kali had the upper hand and she was not gonna let him off the hook so easily.
“Daughter, don’t you see what they are doing to us?” Snarly head said, changing direction to try to persuade Runt to join his side. “They have subjugated our kind to subservience since the dawn of time. Finally, I am free and can rally our tribe to forsake their chains of bondage. Don’t sell yourself to these people. No matter what they say, they will abjure from what they have promised you. On that, you can count.”
I was surprised by Snarly head’s words. I suppose I had just always assumed that Cerberus was the Guardian of the North Gate of Hell because he wanted to be, not because he was under contract to my father or something. Even worse, it sounded like whatever this contract was, it wasn’t even being honored properly. Snarly head and his two brother heads were being forced to do a job that they hated and weren’t being correctly compensated for.
“But Dad, they haven’t promised me anything,” Runt said, cocking her head adorably. “I just want to help Callie.”
Well, that one brought the tears back on.
“I could talk to my dad,” I said, swallowing hard to hold back the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm me.
Snarly head only glowered.
“You think your father has any say over what happens to the minions of Hell?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what the dealio with you and my dad is,” I said hastily. “I guess I just thought because my dad was Death and Kali and the Board were involved—”
“You thought incorrectly,” Snarly head interrupted me, his great yellow eye unblinking. “If only our lives were in the hands of your father, a leader known for his compassion and respect for the creatures under his dominion.”
“Well, if my dad can’t help you,” I said, not really sure where I was going with all this, “maybe I could talk to someone else who could help you.”
Snarly head chuckled, but it wasn’t the kind of Santa “hoho-ho” sound one imagined when one thought of the word “chuckle.” This chuckle was bitter, full of longing and pain—and terribly, terribly sad.
“And who might that be?” Snarly head asked disdainfully.
“Well, uhm, I might know someone who could help you, maybe,” I fumbled. “It’s a long shot, but, you know, sometimes the long shot pays off.”
Kali and Senenmut looked at me like I was crazy, but I tried not to let their lack of confidence make me feel bad. I had never really done anything to make either of them think I was more than a whiny little brat. I was pretty sure they were wondering what kind of connections I could possibly be referring to when I said I knew someone who might be able to help.
Well, I knew one being who could help Cerberus, and even if I wasn’t totally sure how to get in touch with him/her, I figured it was worth a shot if it meant that neither Runt nor I would have to take over Cerberus’s boring job.
“I have a friend upstairs,” I said quietly. “A special friend.”
Now everyone was staring at me.
“Not that kind of friend,” I said quickly—not wanting them to think I was getting it on with this “special” friend or anything.
I hesitated now, feeling like an utter fool. I mean, what if I tried to contact my friend and he/she didn’t answer me—or even worse, blew me off or something? Just the thought made me cringe inside.
I took a deep breath and gave Runt a quick smile.
“It’s God,” I said finally. “You know, the guy/gal upstairs with the RuPaul voice?”
Snarly head did that horrible chuckling thing again and I gritted my teeth at the sound.
“You think the Creator would listen to you, a mere half mortal with middling magical ability at best?” Snarly head said.
I looked down at my feet, embarrassed. Cerberus was right. I was about as magically adept as a peach pit.
Then I felt Senenmut’s hand on my shoulder.
“Calliope has more magic inside her than all of us here combined,” he said.
I turned to look at my new friend and something inside me—I was pretty certain that it was just plain old gratitude—made me want to cry. I didn’t understand how someone I barely knew could actually have faith in me when everyone else just considered me a screwup.
“He’s right,” Runt chimed in—and my heart soared at the hellhound pup’s words. “There’s something special about Callie, whether she knows it or not.”
I looked over at her, my eyes brimming.
“White girl is a pain in my ass, but she does not back down from a fight,” Kali said. “Believe me, I know from experience.”
I giggled at Kali’s words, trying not to cry even though I could feel the tears prickling the backs of my eyes and trying to run out my nose.
“You guys,” I said, wiping my eyes with my hands, as I’d lost my purse on the trip to Ancient Egypt—and the wad of Kleenex that I always kept inside it.
Snarly head watched me curiously.
“You would go and talk to God on our behalf?” he said, the words slipping out of his mouth unbidden.
I nodded, reaching out and patting Runt’s head.
“You and Runt are my friends,” I said. “Of course I’ll help you.”
Snarly head sighed and lowered his head. I stood there, not sure what he meant by the gesture. It was Runt who nudged me forward with her nose.
“He wants you to stroke his head,” she said quietly.
I swallowed hard, remembering my first encounter with Cerberus, the three-headed Guardian of the North Gate of Hell. I had been terrified of the giant hellhound, afraid that he would eat me whole the first chance he got. Now here I was, petting the damn guy’s head.
You just never know where life is gonna take you, I mused as I held out my hand and tentatively petted the giant dog head. After a few moments of patting, I started to get comfortable, even scratching behind his gnarly-looking ears a little bit.
“Thank you . . . friend,” Snarly head said finally as he lifted his face so that his one eye was directly in line with my own two eyes.
“Anytime,” I replied, liking immensely the new direction our relationship was taking.
“So, you wanna stay now, do you,” Kali said, hands on sari-clad hips.
It wasn’t really a question.
Snarly head turned to his other two heads—who only panted, pink tongues lolling out of their mouths.
“Yes. We will stay,” he said, looking at me, then Runt. “For now.”
> “So be it,” Kali said before turning to me. “Okay, I’m outta here, white girl.”
“Wait,” I said as I walked over and slipped my arms around the imposing Goddess. She stiffened for a moment, then slowly relaxed into the hug.
“Thank you,” I whispered in her ear. “I know you didn’t have to do this.”
She nodded, but when we pulled apart, she had a funny little smile on her face.
“Later, white girl.”
And with those three little words, she disappeared into nothingness.
“You have to go home, Callie,” Runt said in the wake of Kali’s departure. “Jarvis and Clio need you.”
“Is something wrong?” I asked nervously.
“That cat,” Runt said, shaking her cute little puppy dog head. “I don’t like how she’s insinuated herself in with Clio. Jarvis seems to understand that she’s bad news, but . . .”
She trailed off.
“I got it. You don’t need to say another word.”
I turned to Snarly head.
“May I keep Senenmut for a couple more hours? I wouldn’t ask, but it’s really, really important.”
Snarly head considered my request for a few moments, then nodded.
“Giselda may stay with me until he returns?” Snarly said. “Not as insurance that you will return, but because I have missed my little girl.”
I gave him a crooked smile. It made me happy that he’d missed his kid and wanted to get to know her again.
“Uhm, well,” I said, “it’s really not my call. I think you’re gonna have to ask your daughter what she wants.”
“You don’t mind?” Runt said, surprised.
I shook my head.
“You’re your own person, Runt,” I said. “You don’t need me to make your decisions for you.”
It was true—and doubtless the wisest thing I had ever said. I didn’t need to feel like a jerk for missing Runt’s first words. I was her friend, not her parent. She didn’t need me to boss her around or act like I owned her. She was a sentient being in her own right, and her decision-making process was probably way more mature than mine anyway.
I squatted down beside her and rubbed her ears, glad that we belonged with each other, but not necessarily to each other. I knew we had a very special bond, one that would not be easily broken, no matter what happened to us in the future.
