by HP Mallory
When I saw Bill, I wished I’d left the light off.
The first thing I noticed was that he’d lost a lot of weight. His usual, roly-poly form that reminded me of a beach ball with legs was gaunt and thin with the skin stretched over his bones in a tanning rack kind of way. And his face looked even worse. It was swollen and bruised with deep scratches that ran up and down and crisscrossed. His puffy eyes were purple in their hollows while his lips were chapped and cracked in multiple places.
A flash of memory in my mind showed me holding a jagged, rusty knife to draw shapes into Bill’s legs. At that moment, I wanted to cry and scream.
I was just about to say his name when the little man stirred. “Come ta fuck me up some more, ya pansy bitch? Nexterday, your ass is gonna be mine. An’ then we gonna see if you can take it as good as you dish it out.”
His words were whisper soft, but I could hear the fight inside them. He lifted his head to look at me, the disgust in his fractured face plainly evident.
“Look, I get that you’re ambitchous,” he continued, his voice breaking. “Don’t know what that means?”
“No,” I stated, pouring every ounce of willpower into making my voice monotonous and disinterested.
“It means you’re strivin’ to be bitchier than the average bitch but, dude, you like now hold the world’s record.” He began wheezing as he inhaled a coughing breath. “But no matter what you’re aimin’ at, you ain’t gonna... break ol’ Bill….” His head dropped back with an audible thud where it remained. “Nips, if you’re in there, give this bitch a fuckin’ aneurism already, fer fuck’s sake.”
“Bill,” I spoke his name softly and so quietly, I worried he didn’t hear me. Actually, maybe I should have been worried he did hear me because Persephone wasn’t exactly mild-mannered.
“You don’t get to say my name!” He exploded with renewed vigor, his beady eyes going wide, the whites a stark contrast to the deep purple beneath them. “That honor is only reserved for my friends! And you ain’t even close to bein’ one of those!”
“Bill…”
Damn it, I need to stop this! I berated myself. But I couldn’t help it. The sight of the angel’s body overrode the need to provide a convincing performance.
“You’re even worse than a sideline hater! Someone who pretends to be your friend but secretly wishes you fail at everything!”
“Stop,” I said, wondering exactly how best to interact with him. The way I was feeling, imitating any of Persephone’s cruel games was right off the table. I figured it was best if I engaged as little as possible with him, that is, if I wanted to keep up my disguise.
“You are just a slut-walking pile of ass-sweat.”
Bill’s insults had certainly seen better days, but given his condition, I didn’t blame him. I let a smile pop onto my face as I just stood there, staring at him and pretending to revel in his pain. Meanwhile, I inwardly soared at his undying defiance. Persephone and Alaire hadn’t defeated him, no matter what they threw at him. He was still the same Bill he always had been, albeit much dirtier and thinner and more battered. But the true Bill he still was… and that made me happy.
I stood for a few seconds longer, memorizing every single injury on his withered frame. I added it onto the same list where I’d been noting every other crime and indignity Alaire had inflicted on me and mine. Someday the asshole would pay. Eventually, I turned around and started for the door again.
“Yeah… you better fucking run, bitch-ass! Just seein’ you leavin’ is givin’ me a justice boner!”
I shut the door and locked it behind me, telling myself that it wasn’t so much to keep Bill locked in as to keep Alaire’s minions out. I then made a mental note to provide him with some additional food and water. A skinny Bill was something I’d rather not see.
“An’ don’t forget the fuckin’ light, Skeletor-whore!” Bill grumbled from the other side. “Ain’t exactly easy ta sleep in here. Fucking Helliday Inn.”
I quickly unlocked the door and obliged him. For some reason, however, watching the light turn to black was worse than seeing Bill’s injuries.
“I miss my iPhone,” he finished in a high-pitched voice that made me wonder if he were sobbing. I knew it wasn’t the iPhone he really missed.
At the thought of Bill crying, my anger consumed me. I didn’t need to look in a mirror to know how red my face was. My hands were white-knuckled fists, my teeth grinding and gnashing against each other. A fire raged in my belly and seemed to build higher until it took over the rest of my chest.
Alaire had to pay for this… all of this. I wasn’t quite sure how though, not just yet. But when I finished with him, that immortal conman would be begging for death’s sweet release.
Deep in the back of my mind, I could have sworn I heard cackling laughter.
“I dar’d not from the path descend to tread…”
- Dante’s Inferno
EIGHT
Lily
Having just emerged from a much-needed shower, I couldn’t wait to scrub myself from head-to-toe. The need to do so had become almost overwhelming. First, however, I washed out the blood from the previous dress I’d been wearing and spread it out on my bed to air dry, making it appear innocent of any wrongdoing. Well, except that the thing was about as skanky as skanky gets.
Standing in Persephone’s bedroom, I had a towel wrapped around my head and another around my body. Turning to the subject of what to wear, I approached her closet and opened the double doors wide. I could only shake my head in silent disbelief as I pushed past one slutty outfit after another. Oddly, it felt like someone was watching me and I could have sworn I heard a whisper coming from somewhere in the room a few times. Eventually, I whipped my head around, fully expecting to see someone there. But no, the room was just as empty as it was when I entered it. Apparently, my frayed nerves were playing games again with me.
Turning back to the dresses—most of which were little more than glorified lingerie—I finally settled on a simple, flat black, strapless dress. Placing the dress on the bed, I approached one of the three dressers in the room and pulled open a top drawer in search of some actual underwear. Imagine my lack of any surprise when all I could find was more lingerie. Actually, I hesitate to label what I saw as “lingerie.” Why? Because the word is entirely too clean to characterize the actual contents of of what I saw in that drawer. Persephone’s pantie drawer contained nothing but G-strings, mostly crotchless, see-through, edible or in some combination of the three. One item consisted only of pearls, for crissakes. It could have doubled for a very fancy slingshot.
“How the hell can those be comfortable?” I asked as I lifted the offensive garment with my index finger and thumb. I inspected them more closely before my only response was a frown. When I remembered that it was my body that had actually worn them, I started to get grossed out. I dropped the pearl panties back inside the drawer before slamming it shut.
I continued to rifle through her other drawers, my mind long beyond belief. At this point, it was getting absurd. Drawer after drawer held garter belts, teddies, transparent negligees, some S&M kind of leather gear and cupless bras. Cupless bras? I could only wonder if Persephone had personally stocked this room or maybe Alaire took the credit for it.
“Alaire,” I answered to myself as I shook my head. I was still trying to force my Persephone memories of Alaire out of my head.
“Yes, my dear?” his voice sounded from the doorway.
A squeal left my mouth and my heart dropped down to my toes before it sprinted away from me. I jumped up, bumping my chest against the open drawer much harder than I expected, before finally being able to turn around.
The sight of his ogling eyes made me glad that I still had the towel securely wrapped around me.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he smirked with a laugh. That jolted me to remember the character I was supposed to be impersonating.
“And just how long have you been standing there?” I demanded, u
sing my best bitch voice I could muster. A toddler in her first school play would have probably sounded more convincing.
“Long enough,” he replied, remaining in the doorway, casually leaning against the door like it was his room, not mine. “Do you require my assistance in selecting your apparel?”
“No, I’m quite suited to handle that task myself,” I said. But the thought of him standing there watching me undress made me physically ill. “However, your queen would greatly appreciate the courtesy of seeing you leave me alone that I may dress in peace.”
God, how I wanted to cringe. That was the best I could do? Still, Alaire didn’t seem to notice or, at least, he didn’t let me know if he did.
“No, dear Persephone, I believe I prefer to stay for the show,” he said, never taking his eyes off me as they crawled up and down my body salaciously.
The way he said Persephone…
Maybe he knows I’m not the one I’m pretending to be.
My heart raced and calmly as possible, I turned away from him so that all he would see was my ass. Then I dropped the towel, eager to get this over with. Just before this interruption, I took out the only piece of underwear that wasn’t crotchless in Persephone’s drawer. It was no more than a bright red thong that could have passed for dental floss but I put it on in record time. Then I yanked my dress up as quickly as I could, feeling Alaire’s leering eyes all over me.
Once everything was neatly in place, I turned back to face him. “Well? I presume there must be a reason why you’re disturbing my peace and quiet by making such an impromptu and unwelcome appearance?”
This time, I went full-tilt diva with the bitch factor. I still wasn’t ready to receive an Oscar but it was much better than my earlier attempts.
The blonde manipulator exhaled a world-weary sigh that would have sounded credible to anyone who didn’t know him well. “I can only imagine what is currently vexing you, my dear, but I shall not venture to ask.”
Thank God!
“I just came from an overly long meeting with Streethorn today,” he continued as I eyed him warily. “He’s starting to ask a lot of questions.”
I perked up. Maybe the guy who sold me on this tragic carpet ride of a job wasn’t as unaware of Alaire’s grandiose plans as I previously thought.
“Is there anything about those questions I need to know?” I asked, hoping he’d take me up on it.
“No, no, it’s nothing, darling,” he said as he dismissed me with an offhanded wave. “To be blunt, that boring, little man’s inquiries are something I don’t want to even think about any longer.”
“Very well,” I sighed as I took a deep breath. “If it should become more than just a ‘nothing’ and we do need to talk, you know where to find me.” Honestly, I wanted him to talk to me right this second—and fill me in on any business dealings he had with Streethorn. But I gained nothing by pushing him, even if I were supposed to be his queen bitch.
A curious smile popped up on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, my dear.”
“Yep, you’re welcome.”
Alaire pivoted on the balls of his feet and started out the door, abruptly stopping dead in his tracks. “You’ve never said that before.”
My heart skipped a beat or two and not in the way it did with Tallis. “Said what?”
“Yep,” he answered, putting extra emphasis on the word as he turned his head to the side to study me with narrowing eyes. My heart nearly dropped onto the floor. “It’s sounds so… colloquial of you.”
The good news was my heart began to beat again. The bad news was it was actually pounding. “Oh, well, you know…” I started to say. When he looked at me like he expected me to say more, I added with a hesitant smile, “When in Rome…”
Alaire’s eyes relaxed before he smiled back and nodded. “Indeed… I like it. I may just get you finally acclimated to this new world, my queen.”
***
Our dinner that evening was a feast of roast beef that smelled so good, it made my mouth water. Alongside it were generous portions of buttery mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus and garlic bread, fresh from the oven.
After reminding myself of the part I was playing, I looked over at Alaire and smiled broadly. I hoped to appear like I was accepting an overdue tribute.
“It all looks most appetizing, my king,” I said, doing my best to keep my smile in a condescending smirk.
Alaire simply nodded and sat down in his chair at the other end of the table. My shared memories with Persephone indicated this was the same table where Persephone told Saxon to go down on her. In the same room where Alaire later murdered him before he could finish his task. I tried not to wonder what must have become of Saxon’s body.
That memory and all the feelings that accompanied it were the only thing that prevented me from leaping onto the food. The seat in front of me suddenly pulled away from the table on its own. I tried not to act surprised and instead, I sat down with as much dignity as a queen should have. Invisible hands positioned me at my place at the head of the table.
“So,” I began before taking a dainty sip from the chalice I found in front of me. I didn’t remember seeing it get filled with wine. But there it now stood, filled to the brim with a blood-red claret. At least my vocabulary had managed to pick up some colorful additions to it since Persephone had occupied my body. Before she stole my form, I didn’t even know the first thing about wine, much less that the glass I was now drinking could be classified as a claret. I took a sip and appreciated how clean and dry it felt inside my throat.
“So,” Alaire said with another cold, appraising smile as he studied me.
“Are you certain there is nothing you can share about your discussion with Jason Streethorn?” I forced a giggle as I set the glass down. “At the very least, you could tell me how that old Duke of Limbs is doing, surely?”
Duke of Limbs? I repeated as I inwardly shook my head. Yeah, there was definitely some leftover Persephone language trapped inside my head.
Alaire shrugged. “Streethorn remains Streethorn. As to the rest, well, it’s truly nothing important, I promise.”
“Well, if it’s so trivial, surely it qualifies as decent subject matter,” I neatly interrupted him. Persephone herself couldn’t have put it better.
He reluctantly nodded while toying with the food on his plate. “Streethorn just wanted to know why so many of his Retrievers failed to return from missions in the Underground City of late.”
He leaned forward and carved a slice of meat in front of him. I observed the reddish juice falling back onto his plate, and it made me think of poor Saxon again. I tried to conceal my discomfort by picking up my glass and swallowing another gulp of the French wine.
“And what, pray tell, was your response?” I asked at the end of my swallow.
“Oh, I just explained that the less capable Retrievers were bound to have a more difficult time dealing with my increased security and protocol. Casualties are routinely inevitable.”
I wanted to throw the chalice right at his head. Those Retrievers were most likely just doing the same crappy job I’d been suckered into. Jason Streethorn offered me a whopping two minutes to decide between taking a stint of retrieving errant souls or spending the next hundred years in Shade, a place which he characterized as the world’s worst waiting room. What kind of choice was that?
The anger coursing through me, I took another sip of alcohol to collect myself. It was a deeper gulp than I intended but I feared my outrage might show through my calm façade if I didn’t drink more to numb myself.
That’s when I started to feel a little loopy. Yes, the Lily Harper of old was never much of a drinker. Small wonder why this wine went straight to my head. And even though I knew Persephone had the appetite of a baby hummingbird, by God, I was really hungry.
Screw it, I’m eating!
I slammed down my glass a lot harder than I meant to before grabbing a serving fork to pile on the meat and mashed potatoes. Alaire ey
ed me with a bemused grin that I tried to ignore. With great gusto, I sat back and began cutting up my roast beef, being ever so careful not to appear too ravenous. I speared a small piece and brought it to my lips. The meat was so juicy and tender that it practically melted on my tongue. I couldn’t conceive how Persephone managed to consume so little as she had.
Better to starve than to be considered a talking pig!
I froze.
That voice.
That was just the alcohol talking, right? Right?!
Methodically chewing the bite that was in my mouth, I carefully placed my fork back on my plate. Then, I dabbed the corners of my lips with the silk napkin I held in my lap. Alaire just continued to stare at me.
“You appear to have quite an appetite this evening,” he said. “At last.”
I nodded, my heart still pounding from the bizarre thought that entered my head. “Well, this evening, I must admit I am feeling quite famished,” I said. The words came out slightly inaudible from the half-chewed food in my mouth.
“So I see,” Alaire responded, downing the rest of his glass. The curiosity I saw in his eyes made me more uncomfortable by the second. “Perhaps you are with child?”
The bite I was chewing nearly exploded from my mouth at the horrid thought.
Please, please, please! Don’t let me be pregnant, I repeated to myself. Granted, my hunger wasn’t too alarming to me but that didn’t alter the repetitive sex acts Alaire and Persephone were frequently having, so there was a chance… I swallowed hard. To Alaire, I said. “I wasn’t aware that you could procreate?”
He shrugged as if he were not certain of the answer himself. “I imagine stranger things must have happened.”
I swallowed my food before trying to stray as far from that conversation as possible. “So… what is the next big step for the almighty Master of the Underground City?” Yes, asking something so obvious was definitely a risk. But I needed more information from Alaire about his plans. As long as he believed I was still on his side, I needed to gather as much as I could.