Chapter 4
I double checked my phone, cast another wayward glance at the Basilica dei Santi Giovanni that I was standing next to, and straightened my coat.
The coat was black, name brand of course. I wore a stark gray dress shirt beneath and an inferno red tie for accent. Cuff links, twenty four carat, Rolex, medium caliber pistol, arcane wand, and of course a proper wet work suit underneath the fancy party attire rounded it off. The shoes were of course designer label as well; black to go with the rest of my outfit.
Stheno came through for me. No sooner had I landed in Venice than her text message with just a few too many winking smiley faces showed up. Across the street from the Basilica there was going to be a very exclusive soiree, and she’d let me go in her stead.
Olympian Supernaturals were going to be swarming it. Mingling with Mundanes that were in the know. She’d apparently taken a gander at the invite list, and discovered that officers from the Sixth Fleet were on it too.
Perfect.
“Ready to party,” I murmured to myself, and walked up the stairs to the exhibition hall. The man in charge of the doors double checked his list, but after a few moments I was let through all the same. What I saw beyond the doors left me a little bit shocked.
I come from money. Not fabulous wealth, but enough to own several cars and eat caviar whenever I felt like it. However, even my own upper class sensibilities were totally dwarfed by the luxury at the exhibition. The whole building reeked of it.
Garish Grecian pillars held up solid marble walls and flooring. Elegant gilded tables lined the outskirts of the room bedecked with a feast of pricey food. I bet I could order a steak of endangered Black Rhino and they’d make it for me. Every single man woman and child was wearing enough jewelry to buy a dozen schools for children in Africa, each, and every single one of them was wearing a mask.
That’s right. This was a masquerade ball.
“Face wear is required, Mr. Hunter. Spares are over there on the side.”
Daniel Hunter was one of my aliases. It got a lot of use in situations like this.
“Thank you,” I said to the doorman, and walked over to the table of spare masks.
Laughter and talking could be heard even here in the reception room. But despite being drowned in pleasant, big money surroundings, I felt hollow inside. It had been a little more than a year now since Cancun. Since Itabimori. The memories refused to fade. My own stupidity cost a beautiful, kind-hearted woman her life.
All my fault. Even if indirectly, it made me a monster. That’s why I ended up picking the beastliest mask from the table. Snarling lips, squinting eyes, long nose and slavering fangs.
All the better to eat you with, my dear.
Donning the head piece, I made my way to the main room. Eyes turned to face me as the official at the top of the stairs announced Daniel Hunter to the party. Even behind masks of every shape and size, I felt a certain intensity in the stares. Or was it just my imagination?
Alcohol first. Sidling my way up to the free bar, the slick haired man behind the counter eyed me dubiously.
“Something light,” I told him.
With a frown, he poured me a drink not unlike champagne.
“Perroco,” he intoned before turning his attention back to washing the bar top.
How abrupt.
Approaching a trio of tittering women, I introduced myself and engaged in small talk.
“No date? Sorry, I’m only interested in men I can steal away from someone,” said the boar masked girl.
“The tie is so garish. Good luck if you’re trying to peacock me,” said the bird masked one.
“I’m out of your league,” the lion masked woman declared, and left as well.
My suspicions were confirmed. This had happened before to me, and it was never a pleasant experience. Every group of Supernaturals and Mundanes alike was shooting conspiratorial glances in my direction when they thought I wasn’t looking. It must have been an unspoken rule about newcomers.
I was being snubbed. Ostracized.
“Pain in my ass,” I muttered beneath my breath. “And here I thought I could find some loose lips to pry information out of.”
I shook my head. Being socially exiled like this suited my mood better anyways. A quiet evening to brood and properly case the party sounded just fine to me. Fate however, had something else in mind for me.
A sudden cheer rang out through the room as a band mounted the stage at the far end of the exhibition hall and an official looking woman made an announcement.
“The annual Profound Society Charity Dance is about to begin in earnest. Please find your partners now. If you have no partner, please come to the sides of the room. Thank you.”
I downed my glass of champagne in one gulp, and eyed the barkeep anew.
“Another one,” I managed to mutter.
The lights dimmed and the music picked up. The dance had started, but everyone was too busy paying attention to something, or someone, to participate. A ripple of gossip and ‘look at hers’ reached my ear. As I raised my eyebrows in curiosity, the crowd parted to reveal the object of everyone’s attentions.
Hair and high heels as black as sin, her inferno red dress reached down to her mid thigh. Legs longer than my list of enemies, a sharp golden crucifix dangling from her neck, and upon her face?
A Devil mask.
Everyone at the exhibition had eyes on her, but her attention was fixed on me. She walked right up to me without a hint of hesitation.
“Call me Iset,” she said. “Would you care to dance, Mr…”
“Daniel Hunter.”
The woman grabbed my hand and led me to the center of the floor. Glares of envy and malice followed after me. The only response a man should give to such stares? A shit eating grin, of course. I boldly placed my hand on the stunning woman’s hip and put my dancing lessons to use.
She didn’t pull a single damn punch either. Before I had a chance to so much as warm up, she’d already thrown us into a swing step. A moment later, she’d turned the speed up to an allegro. Then waltz, American style, and finally, by the end, we’d ad libed until I was at my limit.
So much for low profile.
“Danny you’re so cool. Who taught you all those moves?” she asked as we made our way to the tables.
“My very own infernal dance instructor,” I replied.
Eyes of molten bronze smiled at me from behind the mask. It’s not like I needed any more of a hint as to who ‘Iset’ was anyways.
“You’re going to have to step up your game in trickery. It’s like you’re not even trying this time,” I said, leaning back against a marble wall
‘Iset’ scoffed at me. “I save you from looking like a nerd on prom night and let you show off in front of all these Supernaturals, and this is the thanks I get?”
“I didn’t ask for help.”
“Wearing a mask like yours is enough of a cry for help. Charles Montgomery Locke.”
I sighed. “Lisistrathiel.”
Chapter 5
Lots of people make mistakes. Some screw up bigger than others though. An armed robbery as a teen could land you with a decade in jail. A brash murder will earn you a lifetime sentence. The sins I committed landed me with Lisistrathiel. Lis was not just a gorgeous heart throb of a woman with legs that went on forever and could have probably instigated wars in antiquity, she was a capital A Adversary. A biblical Devil.
Fiendishly villainous. Fiercely intelligent. I couldn’t count the number of times she’d nearly tempted me out of my soul through bargains, through tricks, through damnation big and folly small.
She was also the closest thing I had to a real friend in this business.
“Let me guess. I owe you my soul because you saved my pride by not only offering me a dance partner, but by giving me the opportunity to blast the others out of the water?” I asked.
Lis removed her mask with a flick of a black fingernail. “It’s not always about your soul, you kno
w.”
“Oh really?” I asked. “Then why would you bother helping me?”
“Because, Charlie,” came her reply, lips widening in a fanged smile. “I like you. Your soul shines so bright I’ve considered investing in sunglasses.”
“Compliments will get you nowhere with me,” I replied, deadpan.
Her hand shot up to her chest. She looked genuinely hurt.
“Of course, I should have known,” Lis replied, her hand slowly rising to the edge of her dress. “You are a man after all. I’ll have to show you my sincerity with… my body then.”
“Straight to Hell,” I spat.
There were three things that Lis took seriously. Blasphemy, irony, and hassling the Hell out of me.
“Wow, Charlie,” Lis gushed, barely stifling sadistic laughter. “To think the wolf that preys on the hearts of other girls always turns into a puppy whenever I come around. How cute.”
I am not cute!
“Is there an actual reason you’ve come or are you just here to give me my daily dose of harassment?” I demanded through clenched teeth.
“You hear about the Americans?” Lis asked.
“That’s why I’m here, damn you. Baby sit these Yankees and make sure they don’t start anything,” I said.
Lis perked a jagged eyebrow. “I hope you’re not forgetting the Olympians then, Charlie. We’re in their territory after all. I hope you remember all your classical studies and how to behave properly.”
I nodded. “I do.”
The world of Man wasn’t quite as simple as scientists would have you believe. Magic, monsters, and everything in between called Earth home, and what most Humans don’t realize is that myths, legends and folktales are usually historical recollections, not light fiction made up for general amusement.
Take the Olympians for example. Unique in the Supernatural world for having jumped ship when their initial worshipers, the ancient Greeks of Athens and Sparta, fell to chaos and obscurity. When Greek worship failed, the divinities changed their names and set up shop next door, so to speak. Right smack dab where Rome would eventually form.
Zeus, Hera, Athena and Poseidon ruled for another thousand years as the Roman Jupiter, Juno, Minerva and Neptune. Even today they live on. After all, the stories told and taught about them in modern times are just as good as the worship of a few ragged faithful back in the day.
The Olympians were old and stuffy, regal and dismissive. Especially of Mortals. Even more so than most other divinities. It seems to come natural to anyone who has been in the business of being worshiped as long as they have been.
“If I could go the mission without getting involved with them, I’d be thrilled. Knowing my craptatistc luck though, things are going to get more than messy,” I replied.
“Please Charlie, you have to be the luckiest guy I know. I mean, you get to see me in all sorts of dresses, don’t you?”
“No matter how good the food looks, if you know it’s poisoned you won’t eat it,” I muttered.
“Ephesians four, line thirty one: Let all bitterness and wrath and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice,” Lis quoted.
This is what I meant when I said she took her irony and her blasphemy very seriously. Spot on Bible quoting.
“So, any rumors about your mysterious Angel of Death, then?” Lis asked.
I flinched at the word Angel. Shudders of both fear and hatred ran down my spine. It might have been my stupid confidence that led to Itabimori’s death. But it was the Angel of Death that cut her down. I had to use all my will to push my bubbling rage to the back of my mind.
“You know something about the Angel, don’t you?” My voice sounded cold even to my own ears. Too bad I didn’t care.
“Dear me, Charlie. Wrath is a cardinal sin, you know. Relax. I’ve caught a whiff of something on the air, but it’s not solid. If anything comes up, I’ll probably tell you.”
“Don’t try to manipulate this. Don’t you dare--”
“Charles Montgomery Locke.”
My name was intoned in a voice that belonged to Lis, but that was a few octaves lower than it should be. Despite my heart screaming at me to press on, I relented.
“I’m fine.”
“If you’re that interested in juicy rumors then you should listen to a little bit of gossip I just heard.”
“About our Olympian hosts?” I asked.
Lis shook her head. “There’s already ripples in that pond Charlie, but I’m talking about the Sixth Fleet. The atmosphere is tense. All sorts of hushed voices whispering hearsay here in the realm of Mundanity.”
“What are they saying?” I asked.
“Rumor has it that it’s not strictly an American fleet. Sure, it’s the Sixth in name, but in reality? It’s being run by Supernaturals.”
“Bullshit,” I replied without missing a beat. “America doesn’t have any Supernaturals. No surviving pantheon except a few Wendigos in the wilderness and a couple of old fashioned medicine men among the reserves. Are you telling me there’s a bunch of Native Americans with dream catchers and animal spirits on their way to come beat up Zeus?”
Lis grinned from ear to ear, “Gossip or not Charlie, I promise you there’s something fishy about that fleet. I hope you’re ready.”
I nodded. “Always.”
“You’re so cool Charlie. It makes me want to give you a freebie. Just cause.”
“Gee, thanks.” I said. “What kind of freebie, exactly?”
“It’s the informative kind, of course. Why? Were you hoping for a physical one?” Lis asked.
I slammed the metaphorical brakes. Hold the phone, something was wrong. Lis was being conspicuously forward. You’d think Devils would be masters of seduction, but Lis never once used her body in her plans to damn my soul. No magical charms. No infernal aphrodisiacs. Hell, even mentioning her name in the same sentence as the word succubus in the past has been enough to make her aloof and ice cold for weeks! So then why all of a sudden is she…
“Is everything alright?” I asked, genuine concern tainting my voice.
Lis blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You’re flirting. You’re dancing. Your dress is the exact shade of red my tie is. We’re color coded for God’s sake. And between your get up and your high heels you’ve gone to great lengths to draw attention to your legs. Which you know full well I have a weakness for.”
“Hardly abnormal.”
“The intensity is,” I pressed.
“Charlie, do you want a hint or not?” Lis asked.
I glowered at her a good long moment before I let up. “Fine.”
“That squid mask up there looks awful suspicious, doesn’t it?” Lis asked.
My eyebrows furrowed. “What squid mask?”
“Upper balconies. Second to rightmost. Look by the curtains.”
I did. Barely visible, easily overlooked, the barest tip of an elongated tentacle peeked past the curtains. Light danced on a metallic device that rose and fell periodically from the mask. It almost looked like--
“A camera?”
“You’re welcome Charlie. We might not know anything about the Olympians and what their deal is with the fleet, but I bet squid mask will,” Lis said, a long black fingernail pointing to the balcony.
“I’m going to have a word with the gentleman then. If anything happens at the exhibition, call me.”
Another smile graced her devilish lips. “Got get em, stud.”
Chapter 6
By the time I’d made my way to the top of the balcony, squid mask was already gone. I wouldn’t be much of an agent if I’d given up though. The trail was fresh, and Lis didn’t pull punches when it came to useful advice. Whoever squid mask was, they were surely important. Maybe even critical to my mission.
With a brush of my hand, the curtains parted to reveal a dark world of dusty furniture behind it. While the exhibition hall was bright and filled with colors, fashionable music and all else that glitters, the black b
ack halls were like a dark reflection of the party’s pomp and circumstance. The music was muffled eerily through the thick walls, and all sorts of derelict furniture filled the cramped halls.
It screamed danger. Silently, I drew my wand, and prepared for some quality sneaking.
I have a confession to make. I’ve fought dragons, diffused civil wars, and stood up to genius renegade magicians. However, you’d never think that by looking at what was written on my sorcery aptitude test.
Magical talent: Minimal.
Most people that have minimal magical aptitude become ‘forever apprentices’. Too untalented to advance in the sorcerous hierarchy that so heavily emphasizes talent. However, I’m something of an exception to the rule. After all, it’s not the size of your talent that matters. It’s how you use it.
It was an elementary spell. Most wizards knew about it. The problem was that when you can cast fireballs that can melt angry Ogres or crisp up a dozen zombies in a single shot, you tend to overlook the little things.
I put my hands together, focused my will upon my fingertips, and the magic came together to form a see through globe of magic just large enough to put on my shoe.
Anti sound spheres.
The tapping of my designer shoes and the creaking hard wood floor suddenly stopped. If squid mask was hiding out there with a gun or a knife on hand, he’d never hear me coming.
Five minutes of wandering later I finally found him. Eerie and unsettling. Bathed in the sickly green light of some odd device in hand, squid mask looked down into a screen, tapping buttons. A smooth party suit of gray, or maybe black fabric made for his outfit, and the tentacled mask completely covered his face.
With a strange whirring sound, the device in his hand made the same ding a microwave makes when it’s done. Squid mask swiftly pocketed the device, pulled out a flash light and a book, and then promptly began to read.
What the hell is he doing? I thought to myself.
Taking in a deep breath, I decided that now was the right time to make my move. If I wanted to get some answers, the best way to go about it was by asking the bastard myself. He won’t even know I’m there until I have him right where I want him.
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