Death's Daughter Part 3

I nodded as if I understood, but I really had no idea what Monsieur D was talking about.

"Please, be a good girl," he said, "and fetch me some water."

I felt pretty sorry for him, lying there in the cornmeal-colored sand like a sad sack of potatoes. I stood up and looked around. There had to be something to put the water in besides my own two hands, because the idea of his lips touching my skin was repugnant.

I almost stepped on it before I saw it. Half-buried in the sand, only inches from the edge of the water, was a small silver cup. I picked it up-it looked like it had been made for someone just my size-and let its weight rest heavy in my hand. This was no silver-plated trinket; this was made of one solid chunk of metal.

I wondered who had left it in the middle of the desert for Monsieur D to use.

Suddenly, my fingers felt frozen where I grasped the cup, the interlocking circles that decorated the surface of the thing biting into my skin, leaving their outline in my palm.

"Please, hurry!" Monsieur D urged, his voice pinched.

Nervous now, I looked over at him, noting the strange gleam in his eyes. There was something wrong about this scenario, even if I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Body ignoring the mind's misgivings, I took a step forward, unconsciously moving toward Monsieur D. I was unprepared for the shooting pain that ran up my arm, through my neck, and into my head. A small gasp escaped my lips as pain seared my insides, my brain sizzling like a fajita combo plate.

I dropped the cup-instinctively sensing it was the cause of my pain-and my hands flew to my head, cradling it against another onslaught of sizzle. But the pain was gone the moment the cup left my fingertips.

I looked up, my head still throbbing with the after-shocks of the attack, and saw the cup begin to roll toward Monsieur D almost, it seemed, of its own volition. I watched, transfixed by the cup's progression, as it slowly snaked its way through the sand, closer and closer, until it was just within reach of the desperate prisoner.

Prisoner.

The word echoed in my brain until it germinated a new thought.

Monsieur D was a prisoner. And he wasn't supposed to have that cup!

I didn't even have to think. I ran for it. Stepping hard on my left heel, my right foot shot out, instantly connecting with the gleaming silver vessel. The cup flew into the air, Monsieur D's fingers only millimeters from grasping it.

He let out the most horrific howl I'd ever heard from another human being, like his very soul had been wrenched from his body, which it might well have been for all I knew.

"You imbecile! What have you done!?"

Still on his knees, he made a grab for my ankle, but I jumped back just out of his reach. He was sobbing now, crocodile tears sliding down his withered cheeks. He picked up a handful of sand and lobbed it at me. I was so shocked that an adult would behave this way that I stood there, staring at him, openmouthed.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, Monsieur D's attack faltered. His eyes left my face, coming to rest on something just behind my shoulder. I nearly screamed when I felt a heavy hand clasp my shoulder and wrench me backward.

"Callie," the voice said, deep and resonant in my ears. the voice said, deep and resonant in my ears.

I looked up, my body relaxing instantly as I recognized my father's face. He was in his tennis whites, a headband holding back the lion's mane of golden brown hair that encircled his handsome, chiseled face. He looked more worried than I'd ever seen him.

"Daddy!"

I grabbed him around the waist and squeezed. I was very happy to see him.

"We have to go, Callie," he said, gently pulling me off him like a barnacle from the belly of a s.h.i.+p. "Time is of the essence."

He took my hand and, without a second glance back at Monsieur D, began to drag me away. But I was stubborn. I wanted him to know what had happened.

"That man there," I said loudly, pointing with my free arm back to Monsieur D. "He tried to trick me into giving him this weird silver cup."

Monsieur D gave me a nasty look, which I ignored.

"We'll talk about this later, sweetheart," my father said, keeping hold of my arm so that I couldn't escape.

"But Dad . . ." I whined.

"Later, Callie."

This time his words were more than just an order; they were magic, and to my consternation I found my lips glued shut. They remained that way for almost three hours.

Much longer than it took us to find the cellar door and get back home.

four.

That was the memory of my father that came back to me first as I tried to wrap my mind around the fact that he was in danger.

Mother had sent Jarvis to bring me home, and he wanted to leave for Newport immediately-just open a wormhole right there in the bathroom and hit the road-but I put a kibosh on that one. I mean, I had had to let someone know I was going home, or I'd never work in New York again-and there was no way I was gonna let that happen after all I'd suffered to get where I was in the first place. I decided I'd tell Geneva my father was sick, and then I'd let Jarvis take me to Newport. to let someone know I was going home, or I'd never work in New York again-and there was no way I was gonna let that happen after all I'd suffered to get where I was in the first place. I decided I'd tell Geneva my father was sick, and then I'd let Jarvis take me to Newport.

I just hoped Hy wasn't going to have a coronary when she realized I was gone. Okay, I knew she'd have a coronary-but I hoped it wouldn't do her irreparable harm. As much of a pain-in-the-b.u.t.t boss as she could be, I actually had a soft spot for the woman. She may have been hard to work for, but I admired her tenacity and ability to get stuff done, no matter what problems appeared in her path.

"Wait here, don't talk to anyone, and I'll be right back," I said to the testy little faun, who promptly glared at me. Jarvis liked to give orders, not take them.

I took a moment to smooth out my clothes and run my fingers through my hair before pus.h.i.+ng the door open and stepping into the corridor.

I looked both ways to make sure I was alone in the hall, then let the door close. I only hoped Jarvis wouldn't be tempted to come out and cause a scene. It was one thing to introduce your work colleagues to your father's Executive a.s.sistant-it was another if said Executive a.s.sistant was in possession of hooves. hooves.

I took a deep, calming breath and started down the hallway toward my desk.

"Hey, Callie," a voice called from behind me, the words flowing in a slow Louisiana drawl I recognized as belonging to Robert, the cupcake baker.

I stifled the nervous shriek that had been forming in my throat and turned, smiling brightly. Robert stopped and smiled strangely at me. It was the first time we'd had a conversation of any real length, but I was definitely groovin' on his amazing Southern accent.

"Did you find the organic baked goods I left in the kitchen?" Robert said, the strange smile still plastered on his face.

We stood in silence for a moment. I was starting to get a wee bit paranoid. The intraoffice gossip was was that he was some kind of spy from PETA. Maybe he was here to bust me for harboring a faun without a license. that he was some kind of spy from PETA. Maybe he was here to bust me for harboring a faun without a license.

"What?" I said. "Nothing's going on."

"I didn't ask you if anything was going on-" he started, then immediately stopped. "Did I?"

He looked utterly confused.

"With the cupcakes. I didn't eat them all or anything," I said cagily, not sure what the h.e.l.l I I was talking about, either. was talking about, either.

"You ate all the baked goods?" he asked, his cute little blue eyes all scrunched up with uncertainty.

The idea that I would eat all all the cupcakes was so absurd I snorted. As a side note: When I find something particularly funny, I tend to laugh so hard I snort. It's an embarra.s.sing habit I try not to share with men until at least the fourth date. Anyway . . . the cupcakes was so absurd I snorted. As a side note: When I find something particularly funny, I tend to laugh so hard I snort. It's an embarra.s.sing habit I try not to share with men until at least the fourth date. Anyway . . .

Robert shook his head as if to clear it, sending a sheaf of longish dark brown hair flopping into his face. It was a pretty charming move, and I found myself really looking at him, checking him out, even. It seemed that I was kind of attracted to the cute, granola-eating, hemp-wearing PETA spy.

And from the strange smile Robert still had on his face, I could tell he kind of liked me, too.

"Well, glad you liked them," he said as he fidgeted with something in his back pocket. A second later, he dragged an old, taped-together cell phone out and flipped it open.

"Hey, maybe we could go get food sometime?"

"I would love to," I said, fluttering my eyelashes at him. This was too good to be true. I was standing right in front of a guy I kinda liked, and I hadn't hit him over the head with anything . . . yet.

With bated breath, I waited while he put my phone number into his cell.

"Awesome," he said as he flipped the top of the phone back into place and pocketed it. "Well, I gotta hit the head."

I nodded, then smiled dreamily as he pa.s.sed me and headed for the bathroom.

The bathroom!

"No!" I cried as I realized what he was about to do.

From across the hall, all I saw was the back of his DEATH CAB For CUTIE T-s.h.i.+rt and the b.u.t.t of his ripped jeans as he pushed open the door to the bathroom and stepped inside.

"Please, don't!" I yelled, but I knew it was too late. There was no way Jarvis was gonna be hiding in one of the stalls. I could hear Robert give a m.u.f.fled "Sorry" from where I had been standing across the hall. Then I heard him say: "Hey, is it bring your kids to work day or something?"

Those were all the words he got out of his mouth before he realized Jarvis was anything but someone's kid.

Robert stepped back, out of the bathroom, his face bone white and his eyes almost bulging out of his head.

"It's okay-" I began, trying to calm him, but Robert started shrieking like a little girl, cutting me off.

"Please! Don't scream," Jarvis said as he stepped into the hallway. "There is absolutely no reason for this kind of behavior."

Robert turned to look at me, his brain not even registering Jarvis's words. He just lifted his arm and pointed at the faun in the bathroom doorway, then promptly pa.s.sed out on the floor, his head hitting the speckled carpet with a hard thwump thwump.

I stood, frozen, beside Robert's prostrate body, unsure of what to do next.

"He'll be fine once the shock dissipates," Jarvis said as he stepped out of the doorway and into the green-toned fluorescent light.

This is insane, I thought to myself. I thought to myself. This cannot be happening to me. This cannot be happening to me.

"Close your mouth, Mistress Calliope," Jarvis said. "You look like a codfish."

I instantly shut my mouth, but hated myself for doing it.

"What're you? Mary Poppins?"

Jarvis shrugged.

"And what are we going to do with Robert?" I almost wailed. "He saw you!"

Another thought slammed into my brain, filling me with horror.

"Oh my G.o.d, what if someone else else sees you?" I immediately started scanning the hallway, praying no one else decided to leave their cubicle and investigate what all the screaming was about. sees you?" I immediately started scanning the hallway, praying no one else decided to leave their cubicle and investigate what all the screaming was about.

"He won't remember a thing when he wakes up," Jarvis said, his voice calm and without the least bit of worry. "The human brain tends to ignore what it cannot understand."

"Oh, and you know this how?" I spat back at him.

"Experience. Centuries of it."

You just can't argue with someone who's lived long enough to remember the Battle of Waterloo like it was last Tuesday.

"What're we gonna do with him?" I asked, choosing not to continue the argument.

"We shall put him in the bathroom-"

"In one of the stalls?" I said incredulously.

"Yes, of course, one of the stalls," Jarvis said, rolling his eyes. "You get his legs, Mistress Calliope, and we shall leave the door cracked slightly so that someone will notice and offer a.s.sistance." Jarvis reached down and grasped Robert under the arms, his hands wrapping around the scrawny chest with a viselike grip.

I nodded, taking ahold of Robert's thick calves and lifting.

"Jesus," I gasped. "He weighs a ton for someone with only, like, twelve percent body fat."

Jarvis only grunted in reply.

Together, we were able to carry Robert's limp body into the bathroom and put him inside the cleanest stall I could find. Surveying our handiwork, I was satisfied that Robert was really no more worse for wear than if he'd had one too many lagers out with the boys. He was probably going to wake up with one h.e.l.l of a headache, but that was it.

"Shall we go now? Before there are any more mishaps?" Jarvis said testily. I had forgotten how bossy the little faun could be.

"I told you," I said, "I have to let someone know I'm leaving. Don't you even listen to what I say? Now, stay in the bathroom and I'll be right back."

I turned and started down the hall toward my desk, but not before I heard Jarvis mumble the word "impertinent" under his breath.

"I heard that," I said, not even bothering to turn around. I could feel his glare burning a hole in my back; I didn't need to see it.

geneva was still sitting at her desk, the glossy pages of Vogue Vogue reflecting the fluorescent light from the ceiling back at her. reflecting the fluorescent light from the ceiling back at her.

"Geneva, something terrible has happened," I said huskily, perching on the edge of my desk.