Hades

10 Devil’s Feast

WE were almost at the door when it opened with a muted clack and Jake unexpectedly let himself into the room. Tuck and I both started and tried to cover our confusion by moving in entirely opposite directions. Jake arched an eyebrow and looked at us quizzically. He was dressed in a charcoal dinner jacket and a red silk cravat.

“Good to see you’re still up, darling,” he said in that irritating formal manner of his, as if he were something out of a 1950s movie. “I hope you’re hungry. I’ve come to take you to dinner. It’s just what we need to lighten the mood around here.”

“I’m actually pretty tired,” I hedged. “I was planning on going to bed.”

“Really? Because you look wide awake to me,” he said, scrutinizing my face closely. “More than awake — I’d say you look excited about something. Your cheeks are all flushed.”

“That’s because it’s always so overheated in here,” I said. “Seriously, Jake, I was hoping to have an early night ….” I tried to speak in what I hoped was an assertive tone, but Jake cut me off by waving his hand irritably.

“Enough excuses. I’m not taking no for an answer, so hurry up and get ready.” It struck me that he could be capable of such erratic mood swings. One moment he could be dark and threatening and the next as excited as a schoolboy. Suddenly his tone became more upbeat and he smiled. “Besides, I want to show you off!”

I threw Tucker an imploring look, but his face had returned to its previous expressionless mask. There was nothing he could say or do that wouldn’t get us both into hot water.

“I just want to be left alone,” I said to Jake.

“Bethany, you must understand that there are certain duties attached to your new position. There are important people who are anxiously waiting to meet you. So … I’ll be back in twenty minutes and you’ll be ready.” It was not a request. He was almost out the door when he paused as if a new idea had just occurred to him. “By the way,” he said over his shoulder. “Wear pink tonight. They’ll get a kick out of that.”

Dinner was held in a lavish underground dining room lit by a screen of fire at one end. In place of wall hangings the room had an array of weaponry, including Roman shields, spiked maces, and long blunt stakes — the kind Vlad the Impaler might’ve had in his fourteenth-century Romanian castle.

As Jake and I were the first to arrive, we stood in the flagged foyer as waiters served up finger food on silver platters and French champagne from tall flutes. Peals of frivolous laughter heralded the arrival of the other guests. Looking around I saw they were mostly made up of elite members of Jake’s court. Everyone who approached Jake to pay his or her respects eyed me with unconcealed fascination. Most were dressed elaborately in leather and fur. In my powder pink dress with its scalloped neckline and full knee-length skirt, I felt distinctly out of place. I was relieved to find that I couldn’t see Asia anywhere. I wondered whether her exclusion was intentional. I was sure it would only fuel her resentment toward me.

After a brief lapse of time a gong signaled the commencement of dinner and we were all ushered to our places at the long oak table in the dining room. As host, Jake was seated at the center. Grim-faced, I slunk into my designated seat beside him. Sitting directly in front of us were Diego, Nash, and Yates, whom I’d first encountered in the pit. With them were three strikingly dressed women. In fact, all the assembled guests were beautiful, both male and female alike, but in a strange and frightening way. Their features were perfectly crafted as if from glass and yet they looked so different from Ivy and Gabriel. I felt a pang thinking of my brother and sister, immediately followed by the sting of tears. I bit down hard on my lower lip to hold them back. I might be naïve, but I knew how unwise it would be to show vulnerability in front of company like this.

I studied the faces around me. They were rapacious, conceited, and sharp eyed. Their senses seemed accentuated, as if they could hone in on scents and sounds like wild animals programmed to hunt. I knew they could make themselves appear as seductive and tempting as ever when luring human prey. Although their beauty was striking, there were times when I caught fleeting glimpses as subtle as a passing shadow of their real features that lay beneath the masks of perfection. What I saw made me recoil. I could not suppress my shock when I realized that they merely assumed the guise of humans for outward appearances.

In their true form the demons were anything but perfect. Their actual faces were beyond horrifying. I found myself staring at a statuesque female with coils of chocolate brown hair. Her skin was milky pale; her almond eyes an electric blue. Her delicately hooked nose and round shoulders made her look like a Grecian goddess. But beneath the glamorous exterior she was an image of putrefaction. Her skull was misshapen, with a bulging forehead and a chin as pointed as a dagger. Her skin was mottled and bruised, as if someone had beaten her, and her face was covered in weeping sores and welts. Her nose was pushed up into her head so that it resembled a snout. She was bald apart from patches of thin, matted hair that hung around her face. Her real eyes were cloudy and red rimmed and her mouth was little more than a slot through which you could glimpse stumps of teeth and rotting gums when she threw back her head and laughed. I saw similar flashes all around the table and felt my stomach begin to churn.

“Try not to stare,” Jake admonished in my ear. “Just relax and don’t focus on it.” I complied and found that once I took his advice, the flashes stopped and faces of the party returned to their cruel but beautiful masks. My lack of enthusiasm eventually drew their attention and was misconstrued as rudeness.

“What’s the matter, Princess?” Diego asked from across the table. “Our hospitality not up to your standards?” If the group had been holding back until then, Diego’s comment served as a catalyst, encouraging others to voice their thoughts.

“My, my, an angel in Hell,” chuckled a redhead I’d heard Jake address as Eloise. “Who would have thought we’d see the day?”

“Is she staying long?” complained a man with a fastidiously groomed beard. “She reeks of virtue and it’s giving me a headache.”

“What did you expect, Randall?” someone snorted. “The righteous ones are always exhausting to have around.”

“Is she a virgin?” the redhead asked. “I haven’t seen one of those down here in a while. Can we have some fun with her, Jake?”

“Oh, yes, let’s share her!”

“Or sacrifice her. I hear virgin blood can do wonders for the complexion.”

“Does she still have her wings?”

“Of course she does, you moron, she won’t lose those for a while.”

I sat up straighter, alarmed by the implication that I might soon be wingless, but Jake touched my elbow reassuringly and flashed me a look that said he’d explain everything later.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time, Majesty,” pandered another guest.

The voices blurred together in an orchestra of babble. They were like a group of children competing to see who could draw the most attention. Jake tolerated their antics for a while before slamming his fist down on the table so hard the crockery rattled.

“Enough!” he shouted above the rising chatter. “Bethany is not available for rent nor did I bring her here to face an inquisition. Kindly remember that she is my guest.” Some of the demons looked abashed about having unintentionally displeased their host.

“Exactly,” concurred Nash in a fawning manner. He raised his glass. “Allow me to be the first to propose a toast.”

For the first time my attention was drawn to the table, laden with all manner of delicacies. All the food on offer was rich and extravagantly prepared. Someone had gone to extreme lengths to set the table so that the linen napkins, the silverware, and the crystal were all accurately aligned. There was roasted pheasant, pâtés and terrines, wheels of soft cheeses on timber boards, and platters of exotic fruits. The dusty bottles of wine seemed to outnumber the people. The demons evidently didn’t believe in self-denial and the deadly sin of gluttony was probably a desirable trait here.

I made no effort to touch my glass although they were watching me expectantly. Under the table Jake prompted me by tapping my foot lightly with his. His face seemed to say, Don’t embarrass me now. But I had little interest in helping him save face in front of his entourage.

“To Jake and his charming new acquisition,” Nash continued, giving up on waiting for me to participate.

“And to our eternal source of guidance and inspiration,” added Diego, giving me a withering look. “Lucifer, god of the Underworld.”

I don’t know why I chose that moment to speak. I wasn’t feeling particularly brave so perhaps it was sheer indignation that allowed me to find my voice.

“I wouldn’t call him a god, exactly,” I said flippantly.

There was an appalled silence during which Jake looked at me, astounded by my stupidity. His ability to protect me in Hades must have limits and I’d very possibly just crossed the line. Then Yeats broke the tension by clapping his hands and erupting into laughter. The others followed, equally eager to gloss over my faux pas rather than linger on it and spoil the evening. Yeats looked at me with amusement in his eyes, but the threat in his voice was unmistakable.

“I hope you get to meet Big Daddy soon. He’s gonna love you.”

“Big Daddy?” I remembered Hanna using the same absurd nickname. It sounded like something out of a gangster movie. “You can’t be serious,” I said. “You actually call him that?”

“You’ll find we’re not big on formalities down here,” Yeats continued. “Just one big happy family.”

“Sometimes we call him Papa Luce,” Eloise chimed in as she downed the contents of her wineglass. “Maybe he’ll let you too when you get to know him better.”

“I have no intention of calling him anything,” I proclaimed.

“That’s a shame,” said Yeats. “Seeing as you’re here at his behest.”

What did that even mean? I glowered at Jake to show him I demanded an explanation. He smiled at me wanly as he sipped his wine. He held my glass out to me, indicating I should do likewise.

“Why don’t we talk about this later, darling,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. He wrapped a proprietary arm around my shoulders and tucked a strand of hair that had come loose behind my ear. “Tonight’s about having fun; business can wait.”

The demons eventually lost interest in me and focused their attention on eating and drinking themselves into a stupor. Their appetites were voracious given their svelte forms. After an interval of several hours a few guests rose to excuse themselves. I saw them stagger and disappear behind a stone partition leading to an inner chamber. Sounds of retching and grunting followed by the sound of running water filtered out, but no one seemed to take any notice. Then the guests would return to the table, dab delicately at the corners of their mouths with their napkins, and resume eating.

“Where did they go?” I said, leaning in to Jake.

Diego overheard and answered on his behalf. “To the vomitorium, of course. All the best eateries have them these days.”

“That’s disgusting,” I said, looking away.

Jake shrugged. “Many cultural practices seem disgusting to outsiders. Beth, you haven’t touched a thing. I hope the vomitorium thing hasn’t put you off.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Rejecting the food was a symbolic gesture, but I knew that I couldn’t keep it up indefinitely. I was fading away and sooner or later I would need sustenance if I planned to survive. Jake frowned with displeasure.

“You really should try a little something. Are you sure I can’t tempt you with anything?” He lifted a fruit platter and placed it in front of me. The fruit looked plump and delicious, like it had just been picked and drops of dew still clung to the skin. “How about a cherry?” He dangled one in front of me invitingly and I heard my stomach growl. “Or a persimmon. Have you ever tried one?” He cut one open with a knife, exposing the juicy yellow flesh inside. He slid a piece onto the end of his knife and offered it to me.

I wanted to turn my face away, but the scent was intoxicating. I was sure ordinary food didn’t smell this tempting. The smell seemed to lodge inside my head, taunting me. Maybe one little mouthful of fruit couldn’t hurt? I felt a dizzying sense of relief at the idea. But that wasn’t normal. Food was supposed to serve as sustenance, as fuel for the body. That was how Gabriel had always described it. I’d experienced the sensation of physical hunger many times on earth, but this was like a craving. Hungry or not, there was no way I was going to share food with Jake Thorn. I pushed the plate roughly away.

“In time,” Jake said, almost consoling himself. “You’re strong, Beth, but not so strong that I can’t break you.”

When the feasting was over, the party wandered in a different direction to an open candlelit space where cushions and lounges were scattered across the floor. The mood seemed less languid now as the guests began to stroke and caress one another with growing urgency. There was no coupling off, just a press of bodies with the single intent of seeking gratification. One man leered at Eloise, who responded by tearing off his shirt with her teeth. I turned modestly away when she began licking his chest and he responded with moans of excitement. Jake and I were the only ones still seated.

“Not joining them?” I challenged him.

“Debauchery gets a bit old after two thousand years.”

“Trying celibacy for a change?” My tone could not have been more caustic.

“No, just looking for something more.” He gazed at me in a way I found disconcerting and almost a little bit sad.

“Well, you’re not going to find it with me,” I said sternly.

“Maybe not tonight. But perhaps one day I’ll win your trust. I can afford to be patient. After all, I’ve got all of eternity to try.”

Eventually my glumness proved too much even for Jake because he mercifully let me retire early and I was returned to the relative safety of Hotel Ambrosia via a limousine. Tucker was already waiting for me in the lobby, ostensibly there to escort me to my room.

“How do you stand it?” I fumed as we got into the elevator.

“How does anyone stand being here? It’s so horrible and empty.” Tucker gave me a meaningful look and then pressed a button I guessed wouldn’t take us to the penthouse floor.

“Follow me,” he said simply.

We got out of the elevator and walked in silence through a deserted corridor until we reached a rich tapestry hanging on the far wall. The colored silk threads had been deftly woven to depict a flock of demons as feathered and clawed birds of prey, descending on a mortal man chained to a rock. Some tore at his flesh while others disemboweled him. Even through the fabric, the expression of agony on the man’s face was so vivid that I shuddered. Tucker pulled the tapestry aside to reveal a flight of steps chiseled into the stone. They seemed to lead deep underground, into the very core of the hotel. The air smelled different here, musty and dank compared with the perfumed lobby. There were no lights so I couldn’t see more than a hand’s breadth in front of me.

“Stay close,” Tucker said.

I descended after him, clutching the back of his shirt to make sure I didn’t lose sight of him in the suffocating darkness. The staircase was narrow and winding, but we managed to find our way to the bottom. When Tucker stopped, a brazier on the wall flickered into life. We seemed to be in an underground canal, filled with murky, green water. A breeze swirled around my feet and if I pricked my ears and listened very carefully, I thought I could hear the sound of voices whispering my name. Moss covered the earthen walls and water dripped from the roof of the tunnel. I noticed a wooden dinghy was moored by a platform near the steps. Tucker untied it and tossed the rope aside.

“Get in,” he said. “And try not to make any noise. We don’t want to disturb anything.” I didn’t like the way he said “anything” rather than “anyone,” and it unsettled me.

“Like what?” I asked, but Tucker focused his attention on directing the boat and refused to elaborate further. While the oars sliced silently through the muddy water of the canal I sat rigidly, my knuckles white from clutching the sides. I sensed movement far beneath us. Suddenly the surface rippled as though someone were skimming stones from the embankment.

“What’s that?” I whispered in alarm.

“Shh,” he replied. “Don’t make a sound.”

I obeyed but let my eyes wander back to the water. Bubbles appeared beneath the surface just as something pale and bloated became visible. Pale moonlike disks surrounded us, floating like buoys on the surface of the river. I leaned out of the dinghy, squinting to make out what the queer shapes were and clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream when I saw they weren’t buoys but disembodied heads. All around us cold, dead faces bobbed in the water, their hair fanning like seaweed, their vacant eyes staring straight at us. The one closest to me had once been a woman, but now her skin was puckered and gray like she’d spent too much time in the bath. The severed head knocked ghoulishly against the side of the boat. I swallowed back the questions on the tip of my tongue when Tucker threw me a warning look.

When he moored the boat near a flat outcrop of rock, I leapt out gratefully. We were standing in an alcove that was about the size of a small inlet. In the center was a body of water shimmering like diamonds. It flowed into several tributaries to an unknown destination. It was so clear I could see straight through to the pebbled floor. The rocks where we stood had been worn smooth as silk. I gave Tucker a questioning glance, unsure whether it was safe to speak yet or not.

“This is the place I was telling you about,” he said. “This here is the Lake of Dreams.”

“The one that will take me back home?” I asked, remembering our last conversation that had been cut short by Jake’s arrival.

“Yes,” Tuck said. “Not physically, of course. But you’ll be able to go there in your mind.”

“So what now?”

“If you drink a mouthful, you’ll be able to see what your heart most desires. The water acts like a drug, only it stays in your bloodstream for ages. You’ll be able to project anytime, anywhere.”

I didn’t need further encouragement. I moved quickly to kneel at the lake’s edge and scooped the crystal-clear water into the palm of my hand. Without hesitating I raised my cupped hand to my mouth and drank eagerly.

A gentle hypnotic hum began in the air like the whirring of cicadas. I leaned in closer scanning the surface of the water for a sign. Looking into the lake made me feel disconnected from my body, as if I were falling under a spell. Suddenly I had a sensation very much like being hit in the chest with a punching bag. When I exhaled, I saw my own breath like a glowing orb. It hovered in front of me just inches from the water. Inside it, thousands of tiny balls of white light skittered furiously. I watched the orb descend slowly and disappear.

“Don’t worry,” I heard Tucker whisper. “The lake is reading your memories so it knows where to take you.”

For a while nothing happened and there was only the sound of our combined breathing. Tucker was talking to me, but his voice was muffled. Then I couldn’t hear him at all and realized why. I was looking down at him from above. The lake and its surroundings began to dissolve although I knew I was still physically there.

A panic began to rise as a new location formed around me. At first it appeared pixelated, like a photograph someone had tried unsuccessfully to enlarge. But when it came slowly into focus, I was no longer afraid.

Instead I felt a rush of emotion so powerful it felt like tumbling headlong into a whirlpool. I was going home.