“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.