In that corner of the room sacred to music, Orpheus and his backup band were keeping up an innocuous tweedling suitable to any elevator or Your call is important to us; please continue to hold directive. Apart from Orpheus, the other musicians were the ne plus ultra of mediocrity, harmony hacks whose iridescent green polyester suits were scarce penance enough to atone for what they could do to a harmless Streisand tune. We did not know where Pinch had found them nor did we care to know. They were cheap, which was all that mattered to him. Beddoes, Langley and I persuaded him to include Orpheus among their number by promising to pay for the band's services as our wedding gift. He leaped at the chance like a starved trout rising to a dry fly.
A stir from the doorway heralded the approach of the bride and groom. Beddoes gave me the high sign, I relayed it to Langley who in turn told Orpheus to lead the band in one round of "Here Comes the Bride" before segueing into the first of his cash-flow carols. We had taken the liberty of tampering with several existing tunes, setting our give-to-the-Club-until-it-hurts words to already extant music. (Respect for copyright is a quaint concept, reserved for lesser breeds without the lawyers. Information wants to be free when I am the one who does not feel like paying for it.).
The last brassy chords of Wagner's treacly oeuvre were just sinking beneath the waves of applause for the newlyweds when disaster struck.
"YOU!"
Orpheus leaped from the platform and rushed upon Dawkins and his bride. Seizing the lady roughly by the shoulders, he shook her like a dust mop and thundered, "What are you doing here?"
Before the former Miss Speranza could reply, her new husband intervened. Stiff-arming Orpheus aside, Pinch demanded, "Are you crazy? Get away from my wife!"
"Your wife?" Orpheus laughed. "Sure, why not? If that's what you're into."
"If what is what I'm into?"
"Doing it with dead things."
"Now, see here-!" Pinch had gone almost as white as his bride's gown, which was only a shade or two darker than the lady's complexion. Orpheus took advantage of Pinch's sputtering outrage to get in a word edgewise with Ren-e.
"Hey, babe, long time no see. I kinda wondered what became of you after I screwed up and looked back. So you didn't turn and run back down the road to Hell? What happened? Trip over a good intention?" He chucked her under the chin so hard that her bridal headpiece went flying.
Pinch made a grab for Orpheus's arm, and his groomsmen moved into formation behind him to render assistance as needed. We could have told them to save their breath: Though they were one and all veterans of the finest rugby team to ever scrum for the honor of Harvard, they could do nothing against Orpheus. He merely eyed them for a moment before launching into "It's Raining Men." Immediately there was a peal of thunder followed by the sound of bodies dropping from a great height. From what we glimpsed through the windows of the reception room, these were highly attractive male bodies. The brawny groomsmen raced outside, uttering shrieks of glee and calling dibs on the blonds.
A furious Pinch stood his ground and cocked back a fist intended for Orpheus, but the bard took care of him temporarily, bidding him "Stop! In the Name of Love." While Pinch was thus rendered immobile, Orpheus returned his attention to the bride.
"All those years I thought you were down in Avernus with me. Man. At least that explains why you never came by to visit. No, you were up here, sucking my bank accounts dry like a good little lamia. Well, guess what, babe? I'm back and I'll see you in court!"
Miss Speranza-now Mrs. Dawkins-gave her former husband the cold and clammy eye. "Don't be a fool," she bade him. "You can't sue the dead."
Her cavalier admission to being one of the Respiratorily Disenfranchised caused Pinch to go stark white as to the face, but helpless to do more. At least public acknowledgment of her decedence explained her eerie gift for sneaking up on a man so silently.
Orpheus's eyes narrowed. "Then maybe I won't leave it to a mortal court of law," he said. There was a most disturbing note in his voice and, seeing as it was his voice, the aforesaid disturbing note was pitched perfectly. I felt the small hairs on the back of my neck stand up like West Point plebes on parade.
Pinch's bride was made of sterner stuff. "You don't scare me. I used to have an apartment in Jersey City."
"Sure you did, before you took my money and ran. I entered the gates of Avernus for you and this is the thanks I get?"
The newly pledged Mrs. Dawkins rolled her eyes. "Oh, puh-leeze! I'd still be down there if I'd relied on you. He told you not to look back: Twice! I can't stand a man who won't learn from his mistakes."
"I'm learning from one of them right now," Orpheus said grimly. His fingers curled and uncurled. I could not tell whether he were plucking the strings of an invisible lyre or rehearsing her imminent strangulation.
"Shouldn't we do something to stop this before it gets any worse?" Beddoes was at my elbow, his face the color of eggshell. "This has all the earmarks of a pending bloodbath. The Club can't take many more."
"What do you propose we do?" I replied, assuming a stoic air I did not truly feel. "Lest you forget, that is Orpheus. So long as he has the power of his voice, no one may stand against him."
"She seems to be doing a fair enough job of it." Beddoes nodded at the former Miss Speranza. "Why isn't he singing her into submission?"
"Perhaps because she is-or should I say she was-his wife," I replied. "Even a bachelor understands how wives often have the power to blot out the sound of their husbands' voices when it suits them."
As we conferred, the tension between Orpheus and his second wife mounted apace. "Just tell me one thing before you get what's coming to you," he demanded. "How did you manage to get out of Avernus?"
Her laugh had all the charm of a creaking lich-gate. "How do you think, sweetheart? I walked. Don't stare at me that way; you look like a trepanned catfish. You fixed it so I could get out. That whole don't-look-back shtick was to test you, not me. You think Hades wanted me hanging around after he'd processed all the paperwork? Half the reason he was so mad at you for looking back at me was because of what happened the first time! She's a sweet kid, Orpheus, but she never was very independent, was she?"
"What are you talking about?" Orpehus asked. The whites of his eyes showed all around the irises, after the manner of a badly spooked horse. "Who are you talking about?"
"That would be me."
She irrupted among us with the same abruptness and stealth as Ren-e Speranza had formerly used to such devastating effect in the Club bar lo, those many weeks ago. She was a fetching creature of Classic beauty, which made perfect sense given her identity.
"Eu-Eurydike?" The divine singer really did resemble a mentally deficient fish when startled.
The lady crossed the room and brought her husband the gift of renewed eloquence via a swift slap to the face. "Love me forever, hm?" she said, pointing at the smirking bride. "You got over your broken heart pretty damn quick, you swine! Since when does forever end after a lousy two, three millennia?"
Ren-e stepped up to put an arm around Eurydike's shoulder. "I found this poor girl all by herself in one of the saddest, darkest corners of Avernus. None of the other shades would come near her because of what you'd done to her. They can smell the taint of life; it puts them off their wailing. I introduced myself and we got to talking. When I found out who she was, I asked her how come she was still hanging around a dump like Avernus when she'd been cleared for emigration. Poor baby never even thought to try getting out without you being there to lead her every step of the way. I told her, Eury, I said, what's the worst that can happen to you if you try to get out on your own? What's Hades gonna do? Kill you? It was the first time I saw her smile. Of course she stopped smiling as soon as I told her who I was. Not that she was mad at me, of course."