by Mark Cain
There was also an occasional mythological creature at the reception, and one of them walked up to me now. “... - . ...- . --..-- / .-- .... .- - / - .... . / .... . .-.. .-.. / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / -.. --- .. -. --. / .... . .-. . ..--.. ?”
Before me, in a charcoal cloak and incongruous black bowtie, was a skeleton holding a champagne flute. It was my friend, Charon. Since Ronnie had no tongue, he communicated through a series of clicks and clacks - or dots and dashes. It was Morse Code which, because of my years in the Boy Scouts, I understood. What he said was, “Steve, what the hell are you doing here?”
I’ll continue to translate, since I’m pretty sure most people are a little rusty with their Morse Code.
“I could ask you the same question. Since when do you leave the Styx to attend a cocktail party?”
When my brother talks me into it, my friend grumbled.
Across the room was Mortimer, Death himself. He looked like a twin of his little brother, though if we were honest with ourselves, we’d say the same thing about any two skeletons of roughly the same height, bones bereft of flesh being the great equalizer in human appearance. Morty’s black cloak, however, was a better match for his bowtie. Death had a cocktail in one hand, his scythe in the other. He waved at me with his drinking hand, which was nice of him, because if he had waved with the other one, it would have creeped me out. I got along pretty well with Morty, since the old death thing was pretty far behind me at this point, so I waved back.
Mortimer loves these events and, well, he thinks I should get out more.
There were a few extra clacks in there. “Ronnie, are you chewing gum?”
Yes. Grape. My favorite, as you know. What of it?
“Well, you have a glass of champagne in your hand. Are you going to drink that while you’re chewing gum?”
I don’t see why not. I have no taste buds, as you so frequently point out to me, so it doesn’t make much difference. With that, Ronnie slammed back his drink.
Which drained through his bones straight onto the carpet.
Casanova rushed up with a napkin and blotted up the champagne. I looked down at the former philanderer. “Good thing it wasn’t red wine,” I opined.
I never drink … wine, not red wine anyway. When I’m forced into going to one of these damnable social functions, which is rare, I always stick with something that won’t leave a stain.
“That’s pretty thoughtful of you. What?” I said, as Lilith pulled on my arm to get my attention. “Sorry. I’m being rude. Charon, I’d like you to meet a new friend of mine.”
Charmed, Ronnie said, taking my escort by the hand and planting a gentlemanly kiss on her knuckles. Unless I am mistaken, you are Lilith, are you not?
I rolled my eyes. “Good guess.”
Lilith smiled warmly at Ronnie. “Yes. I’ve always wanted to meet you, Mr. Charon.”
Ronnie. Please call me Ronnie. All of my friends do.
Well, well. Ronnie had a bit of the old savoir-faire going. I had never thought of him as a ladies’ man, but he was pretty smooth.
Lilith, who seemed to have no problem understanding Ronnie, was looking unashamedly at his lower extremities. “Do, ah, do skeletons have bones for all parts of their … ”
I’m afraid not, my dear. Boner is just a figure of speech. However, if you should ever be up on Level 0.5, I could show you how I compensate. I’ve never had any complaints.
“Ronnie!”
“I’d love to,” Lilith replied huskily.
“Lilith! See you later Ronnie!” I said, pulling the succubus toward the refreshment table.
“Steve,” my date laughed, “you’re blushing! Are you jealous?”
“Yes, no! I don’t know.” I grabbed a glass of champagne and slammed it back. Since alcohol had no effect on the dead, the drink didn’t help calm my nerves, but the action was spirited and seemed appropriate for the occasion.
“You are jealous! That’s so cute,” she giggled, and took a glass offered her by Ms. Borgia.
There was a commotion in the room, and a bright light flashed. Lilith looked up. “I think Asmodeus is making his grand entrance now. I wonder who his date is tonight.”
The crowd separated for Asmodeus, an extremely handsome devil, with a black goatee that nicely complemented his white tie and tails, not devil tails, though he had one of them crammed somewhere in his trousers, for sure - or perhaps duct taped up his spine - but the kind of tails on the back of a formal black evening dress coat. On his arm was a spectacularly beautiful woman dressed in a strapless, Empire waist gown. Her long, chestnut hair was in an elegant updo. She wore only a hint of makeup, but she didn’t really need any. She had a face that could make an angel – or devil – weep.
It was Florence.
I stood there in shock, and we almost collided before Flo saw me. When she did, she gasped.
“What are you doing here?” I asked in astonishment and no small amount of indignation.
Florence disentangled her arm from Asmodeus, who was watching our encounter with great amusement. “I could ask you the same thing!” she said, blushing in embarrassment and outrage.
Then it was that I noticed Lilith’s arm wrapped like a serpent around my own. I had a little more difficulty extracting myself from her than Flo had from Asmodeus. Now it was Lilith’s turn to be jealous, and she was being appropriately possessive.
“I’m here on business,” I said.
“Hmmph. Monkey business, it seems to me,” she said, eyeing Lilith with cool disdain, “for I see you have on your monkey suit, which you just told me a little while ago you no longer owned.”
“No,” I said heatedly. “You asked about the white dinner jacket. Besides, this is a new outfit. I just got it.”
“Well, well,” Asmodeus said, chuckling. “I see you two know each other, but I’m afraid sir, that I do not know you, or how you got in without an invitation.”
“This is Steve Minion,” Lilith said with a pout. She didn’t need me to spell out my history with Florence. After all, Lilith had seen the movie. She took my arm again. “He’s my date.”
That’s right. And, after all, why should I be defensive? Florence and I aren’t seeing each other right now. She has no hold on me, not really.
Except my heart felt like it was being pulped in a juicer. I hated her seeing me with Lilith, and I was pretty sure she hated me seeing her with Asmodeus. Yet I could not imagine why she would be at a reception on the arm of a devil. I took a deep breath. “Lilith is right. I’m her escort this evening, but like I said, I’m here on business. What’s your excuse?”
Flo looked a little taken aback. She must have known her presence with the Prince of Lust was every bit as questionable as mine with a succubus. “I … I’m here on business too,” she said at last.
Asmodeus put his hand to his chest, where his heart would have been, if he’d had one. “My lovely, you cut me to the quick. And after all I have done to help you these past two days.”
Past two days? “What’s he talking about?”
Florence was staring down at the carpet, pursing her lips. “Asmodeus just completed a thirty hour telethon to raise support for renovating the hospital waiting room.”
“What?”
“That’s right, Mr. Minion, is it? The waiting room was in a terrible state of repair. It seems to me that someone hasn’t been doing his job.”
“Are you talking to me?” I said, my voice thick with anger.
“Calm yourself, human,” Asmodeus said, and flashed his very sharp canines. For the first time, I remembered who I was talking to.
“Sorry, Lord Asmodeus.”
“Better, Minion.” The Prince of Lust looked speculatively at Florence, then me. “Not that I have to explain myself to you, but I conducted the telethon on the sole condition that Miss Nightingale attend tonight’s soiree as my date.”
And that explained everything to me. I looked over at Flo, who was sighing softly. She, at least was off the hook. Now, if
I could just get myself off too. The hook, I meant. Not that other thing, though if Lilith had her way, that would happen too.
Trying to regain my composure, I nodded briskly. “And that takes care of my reason for being here tonight.”
“Beg pardon?” Asmodeus said.
I shrugged. “Lords Satan and Beelzebub have me investigating the breakdown of the Underworld’s HVAC system. I suspect foul play, yet there are only a few of Hell’s inhabitants powerful enough to pull something like this off.”
“And I, as one of the princes of Hell, am one of them, of course. Sorry to disappoint you, but you see I have a … a, what do you call it?” he asked, all smiles.
“An alibi,” I grumbled.
Asmodeus smiled again, delighted. “Yes, that’s the word. And Miss Nightingale is it. Would you say she qualifies as a reputable person?”
I hung my head. Where was something to kick when you really needed it? “Yes sir.”
“Good. Then if you will excuse us, I would like to show Miss Nightingale the view from the balcony.” With that, Asmodeus grabbed two glasses of champagne in one hand and, putting his free arm around Flo’s milky white shoulders, led her away. She glanced back at me, wide-eyed.
I had a feeling that at that moment Florence was regretting making a deal with a devil.
“So she’s the big challenge Asmodeus has been talking about,” sniffed Lilith. “She doesn’t seem like such a conquest. Why, he’ll have her in the sack before the night is out.”
Despite the awkwardness of the situation, I chuckled. “I wouldn’t bet the farm on that.”
“What farm?”
“It’s just an expression.”
“Oh.”
“Well,” I said, looking around the room. “I guess I’ve learned what I needed to. Might as well be going.”
“What? Don’t go, Steve. I hate being at one of these events by myself. Please stay a while longer.” Lilith grabbed another glass of champagne. “Besides, Asmodeus hasn’t told you everything. Let’s find someplace quiet. There’s more.”
“Ah,” I said, watching Asmodeus and Flo disappear through the glass doors leading to the balcony. “Okay.”
Lilith wove her way through the crowd, leading me by the hand to a room at the far end of the suite. She opened the door and stepped inside, beckoning me to follow.
We were in what looked to be Asmodeus’s private study. A modern glass and stainless steel desk dominated the room, along with an executive chair that was about as big as a throne; there was also a large couch in one corner of the room. On the walls was an assortment of erotic art and, incongruously, some framed pie charts.
Lilith sat on the couch and pulled me down next to her. “What’s the couch for?” I asked.
“Conquests,” she replied. “He’s the Prince of Lust, after all. And you think he’s gonna just do it on his desk?”
“Good point. So, you said that Asmodeus isn’t telling me everything.”
The redheaded succubus was twisting one of her curly locks around a finger, a habit of hers that I somehow found very sexy. She looked up at the ceiling then back at me. “I lied.”
“What?” I started to stand but was jerked back down on the couch.
“Steve,” Lilith said, running her fingers through my hair and nestling her cheek against my own. She smelled both sweet and spicy, and I felt the great white whale preparing to breech. “I really like you.”
“And, I … I like you too. I mean, how could I not? You’re a succubus.”
“Is that all I am to you, just a demon who seduces men?”
I opened my mouth to say yes but closed it abruptly. I thought about the question with some care. “No,” I said at last. “I mean, I know that’s exactly what a succubus is, but there’s more to you than that. I, well, I confess I like you … a lot.”
Lilith made a cooing sound and started to crawl in my lap. I held her back. “But, but why do you like me so much? I’m just another one of the damned.”
My date gave me the same consideration I had given her and pondered the question carefully. “Well, I am a succubus. I can’t deny that. If you move, I have the hots for you. I’m wired that way. But … but there’s more to it than that.”
Exhaling softly, Lilith sat back on the couch. “Maybe it’s your puppy dog eyes. And there’s something about you, a certain quality I can’t put my finger on. I’ve, well I’ve never come across it before, and it really turns me on.”
“What quality?” I said, mystified. “My big nose?”
She chuckled, touching my schnoz lightly with a forefinger. “I like your nose! You do know that all the best lovers have big noses, don’t you? But no, that’s not it … Well,” she said at last, hesitantly, “I’m not sure I’m right, because I only know in theory that this quality exists, but I think it’s called integrity.”
She looked wistful now. “I saw how you looked at Nightingale back there. I … I’d give anything to have you look at me like that.”
“Lilith,” I said with a gentle smile, “you could have any man you want.”
“Good!” she said, and then she did crawl in my lap. She put her arms around my neck and whispered in my ear. “Because I want you.”
“And in here … well, I’d like to show you my pie charts,” said a masculine voice from the hallway. The door opened, and Asmodeus and Florence entered the room.
“Aagh!” I screamed. Lilith was dumped on the floor as I stood up in haste, but it was too late. Florence had seen her in my lap.
“Steve!” Flo shouted, fury and embarrassment both vying for facial supremacy. “How could you?”
“How could I what?” I asked, helping Lilith to her feet. “Sorry about that,” I whispered to her.
“Occupational hazard,” she whispered back.
“And what are you doing in here?” I asked. “Alone with the Prince of Lust?”
“You know how I like pie charts.”
This was true. Florence Nightingale had always liked pie charts. She used them as a mortal and continued to use them in Hell, frequently to explain some arcane point to a management that couldn’t care less.
“Well,” I said, finally fed up. “I’m tired of being accused or suspected of doing things I haven’t done.” I turned to Lilith and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. “Thank you for a wonderful time, but I must be going now.”
The succubus beamed. She had probably expected a brush-off, and my act of gallantry had been unexpected. “You’re welcome! I hope to see you again soon.” She put a thumb to her ear and her pinkie to her mouth, the universal symbol for “call me.”
“That would be nice,” I said, smiling, then left the room.
From behind me, I heard Asmodeus say, “ … but Miss Nightingale!” Then a door slammed.
Before reaching the elevator, I noticed that Flo was right behind me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving too, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Why?”
“I only told Asmodeus I’d come to his reception. I never said I would stay long.”
“What about him and Lilith?”
“Last I saw, they were sitting, arms crossed, on that couch, glaring at each other.”
“Hmmph.”
“Hmmph.”
We rode down the elevator in silence. As we walked across the marble floor of the foyer, I asked if she needed a ride home.
“No thank you,” she said frostily. “I think we would do best to say good day and make our own ways home.”
“Fine. Good day,” I said and turned my back on her, more than a little angry.
“Good … ”
The door closed behind me before I heard her utter another syllable.
Chapter 17
BOOH took me to my apartment so I could change back into my coveralls. To save me the walk up six flights, my friend flew right to my window. I couldn’t open it from the outside - hell, it was hard enough to open from the inside - so BOOH did me the favor
of shoving one of his claws through the glass. Then he hovered in place as I got off his back and climbed through the opening.
While donning my still-damp coveralls, I tried to puzzle out what had just happened and why Flo and I were so furious with each other. It was natural that she would be jealous, having seen me in that compromising position on the couch, and I did find Lilith attractive. Yet, I had done nothing wrong. Lilith had come onto me, not the other way around, and I’d been doing everything in my power to not succumb to a succubus, especially one I thought was a pretty nice person. All in all, I thought I’d managed myself pretty well.
As I climbed out the window, I realized my anger had something to do with that integrity thing Lilith had been talking about. Flo had been questioning it, and I expected better of her. Back on BOOH’s shoulders, I realized this was not the first time Flo had doubted my sincerity. She thought I had been a coconspirator in her seduction all those months ago. Her suspicions were wrong, unjust, and I realized that I had been harboring some resentment ever since.
And yet, as BOOH set me down before the trailer, I understood why she would have doubts. Both situations had put me in a bad light. I probably hadn’t helped things by kissing Lilith in front of Flo, but I was mad at Miss Nightingale, and I knew that would push her buttons. Besides, I liked Lilith.
BOOH settled down for a catnap on a nearby trash heap, and I headed for the office door. Climbing the stairs, I suddenly felt less sure of myself, and my anger crumbled.
Fact one: Lilith was sitting in my lap on the couch. Fact two: Flo had a right to be upset, because I really was attracted to the little redhead while she, that is, Flo, hadn’t shown any evidence of attraction for Asmodeus. Crap. So much for righteous indignation. And now my relationship with Florence was even more screwed up than before, just when things between us were beginning to improve.