Death's Daughter Part 8

"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea, I guess."

He gave me another nod, and then one for Jarvis, before hightailing it out of my father's study as fast as his muscular thighs could carry him.

"I think he was kinda attracted to me," I said as Jarvis and I watched the door slam loudly on the detective's retreating back. "At least a little in the end there. I think the whole Death thing kinda turned him on."

"If you're even the slightest bit serious . . ." Jarvis said, rolling his eyes heavenward.

"I may be dumb, but I'm not oblivious," I said, knowing full well that Mr. Handsome Detective would rather eat leeches than squire me on a date.

Suddenly, a flicker of happiness flared in Jarvis's eyes as he remembered something he was obviously going to relish telling me. Something I was not not going to relish hearing. going to relish hearing.

"By the by," he said, his voice full of pleasure, "you wouldn't believe it, but I found the cutest little organic dim sum place in the East Village. Took me ten minutes-"

"I looked online, like, forever forever!" I blurted out, interrupting him.

Jarvis giggled.

"I know you did. That's why telling you about it gives me such complete and utter pleasure."

the lobby was cold.

Not in the sterile, hospital-like definition of the word, but in the "I need two sweaters, a scarf, and a pair of those little earm.u.f.f-thingies just to sit in here, period" way. Luckily, I had-at the insistence of Jarvis-changed into more "businesslike attire" (his words) for this meeting. A very well-cut dark blue Ann Taylor pantsuit. I didn't know where Jarvis had magicked it from, but I was glad he had. Otherwise, I'd be freezing.

I leaned back in the stylish steel and leather chair I was perched on-one of four that occupied the small vestibule Jarvis and I were waiting in near the bank of elevators that led to the Penthouse-and began to leaf through a dog-eared copy of Elle Elle I'd found underneath a stack of I'd found underneath a stack of Wall Street Journal Wall Street Journals on the gla.s.s-topped coffee table in front of me.

Teeth chattering, I tried to focus on the article, but instead found my eyes drawn inextricably across the coffee table to where Jarvis sat twiddling his thumbs, an expectant look on his face.

I had immediately realized upon our arrival that Jarvis was not supposed to have come with me. The receptionist at the front desk had given him a very pointed look, almost a glare even, but he had stood his ground, refusing to be intimidated by the pretty sentry. I wasn't sure if he was doing this because he felt sorry for me, or if he just liked his job too much to let me screw it up for him. Either way, I had unwittingly enlisted the faun as my de-facto chaperone.

"Hey, Jarvi," I whispered across the table at him. He looked up, and I only barely caught the strained expression in his eyes before he hid any emotion behind his usual poised visage.

After a pregnant pause, he sighed heavily. "Yes . . . ?"

I looked around to make sure we weren't being overheard, then leaned forward in my chair.

"I have to pee."

The glare he gave me was so intense I kinda wished I hadn't been a smart-a.s.s after all.

"Just kidding," I said quickly, hoping to escape his wrath. "Seriously, I was wondering who I was gonna be dealing with upstairs, and secondly, why the h.e.l.l is it so b.l.o.o.d.y cold in this stupid building?"

Jarvis nodded, taking in my questions.

"When the office of Death was first created at the beginning of time, G.o.d gave its commission to one of the seraphim, but after the Christian Fall-"

"You mean Adam and Eve?" I said helpfully.

Jarvis shook his head.

"No, the Fall when Lucifer decided to wage war against his G.o.d, lost, and was sent down to h.e.l.l. That Fall."

"Oh," I added unhelpfully.

"So, after that Fall that Fall, G.o.d decided it would be better to have an impartial creature running Death. So, instead of an angel or demon having dominion over this plane, he appointed an earthly being to the office. Someone impartial, who could govern Death without favoring one side over the other," Jarvis finished.

"Okay, but that still doesn't answer my question. Who's upstairs?"

Jarvis smiled.

"G.o.d's not an idiot. He knew that no matter how impartial a human, or other earthly being, could be, they could still be swayed. So, he created a Board to keep the office of Death in check. That is who must bequeath the power of the office on you so you can run the business properly."

"So, I'll just pop in, say hi, get bequeathed, and then I can go home."

Jarvis shook his head.

"It's nothing as easy as that. You have to prove your worth to the Board-"

"Excuse me," I interrupted. "I have to prove my what what to the to the who who?"

"There are three tests. Only the next in line for the job can pa.s.s them."

"You didn't say anything about any tests," I said, standing up. "I do not not do tests. No way, jose! I am do tests. No way, jose! I am so so out of here." out of here."

"You're lucky," Jarvis added, ignoring my protests. "There used used to be twelve tasks, actually-" to be twelve tasks, actually-"

"I don't care if it's half a task," I yelled over my shoulder as I stormed over to the exit. "It isn't happening!"

I grabbed the Elle Elle-I wasn't gonna leave it behind to be mauled by every ignoramus who sat down-and started for the front door.

Suddenly, the elevator doors slid open and two large jackal-headed men in very expensive black suits stepped out. They turned their heads in unison, fixing their coffee-colored eyes in my direction. As if commanded by unseen forces, my feet stopped dead in their tracks, refusing to continue forward no matter how hard I willed them to.

"You are summoned," they said in tandem.

"d.a.m.n it," I said under my breath as my feet did a do-si-do and turned me back around. All I could do was follow the Jackal Brothers back to the elevator, still holding the magazine tightly to my chest.

As the elevator doors closed in front of me, the last thing I saw was Jarvis standing by his chair, fiercely clutching his hands together in something that strangely resembled prayer.

eight.

The ride in the elevator was pretty uneventful. I spent the two plus minutes admiring the powerfully muscled backsides of the Jackal Brothers-now there were two guys who knew how to work a suit, even if they didn't have the kind of heads I usually saw on my favorite catwalkers.

I tried to make conversation, but they were having none of it. They kept their large jaws clamped shut no matter what tack I tried. To Jackal Brother Number One: "So, you come here often?"

Silence.

To both of them: "I really dig your muscles. Do you guys work out?"

Double silence.

Finally, the elevator chimed twice, and the doors opened, revealing a well-appointed foyer.

"The Penthouse," Jackal Brother Number One said, not even looking in my direction as he and his twin stepped out of the elevator and beckoned me forward.

For a moment, I was tempted not to follow them, just to p.i.s.s them off, but one look from Jackal Brother Number Two convinced me that it was in my best interest to get out of the elevator-and I mean, like, now. now.

I crossed the threshold into the foyer, noting the elegance of my surroundings. There had obviously been an interior decorator at work here. The place was absolutely gorgeous-like something out of Architectural Digest Architectural Digest. I mean, the room had, like, twenty-foot ceilings and a budget that probably exceeded my yearly salary at House and Yard by three hundred thousand dollars.

Whoever had done this room was a true Master. Dark cherry wood-paneled walls framed creme brulee- colored marble floors, all of this offset by a gorgeous...o...b..ood-and-rust antique Oriental carpet and two sumptuous burgundy velveteen couches. I could have lived in that foyer for the rest of my life and been happy.

Jackal Brother Number One gestured for me to follow them through the gorgeous room-which I did hesitantly because the Jackal Brothers were starting to kind of give me the creeps.

They led me toward a pair of heavy wooden double doors that were set into the far wall, stopping just in front of them. Jackal Brother Number One knocked three times on the right-hand door, then waited as the knock was returned in kind. Suddenly, there was a loud hissing sound-like when you let a balloon go and it whooshes all over the room-and the double doors creaked open, bathing the dark foyer in light.

I have to admit that I gasped. I didn't mean to, but the strangeness of going from that immaculate foyer to . . . what I saw next was, well, surreal.

"Welcome to Atlantis," Jackal Brother Number Two said, stepping out into the light.

When I was a little kid, I liked to read about faraway places. Usually, they were real places that you could go to if your parents had the time and inclination to take you there, but sometimes they were magical places, places that belonged to imagination alone. One of my favorite magical magical places was the submerged continent of Atlantis. places was the submerged continent of Atlantis.

I had devoured every book I could find on the subject, lovingly tracing the artistically rendered seascapes and citied pavilions, engorging myself on fantasies of the awesome family holidays we could have had there if the stupid place hadn't "gotten lost."

Now, here it was in all its glory, better than anything I'd ever found in a book, realer than my imagination had ever managed.

"Jesus Christ," I whispered under my breath.

Jackal Brother Number Two turned in my direction.

"Where?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Jeez, it was just a figure of speech," I muttered.

Obviously the Jackal Brothers were of the literal literal persuasion. Absolutely no sense of humor whatsoever. persuasion. Absolutely no sense of humor whatsoever.

I followed them down a rocky outcropping, glad that I was wearing "sensible shoes" with my "business attire," toward a white marble and mother-of-pearl open-air paG.o.da that had an unbelievable view of the ocean below us. I could feel the rush of the surf in my ears, my skin p.r.i.c.kling at the touch of sea spray on my face. It was way warmer here. I slipped off my jacket, and my body instantly relaxed as the rays from the dazzling summer sun seeped into my skin.

We walked closer, and I saw that set deep inside the paG.o.da was a large marble banquet table. One man and two women sat behind it, waiting.

For me me, it dawned on my brain slowly.

This is a h.e.l.l of a lot more overwhelming than Jarvis even intimated.

We crossed the last group of rocks, and then we were there. The two Jackal Brothers bowed deeply to the a.s.semblage.

"We have brought the one you requested."

The older man seated at the middle of the table bowed his head in return.

"Thank you, Brothers Anubis. You may go back to your own business."

The old man's accent was hard to place, but something inside of me voted for Scandinavian. He had a head of thick gray hair with streaks of black still threaded though it and a bushy beard to match.

The Jackal Brothers bowed again. Then before I could say, "Boo," they both vanished.

"Please, have a seat." The old man gestured to a wooden stool that had magically appeared behind me.

"Thank you," I said, sitting down. The seat was a little hard on the rear, but I ignored it for the sake of polite-ness.

I looked at the rest of the Board. The two women were both wearing dresses of draped fabric-an orange sari and an off-white toga-but that was where the similarities ended.

The one in the sari was a bit younger with dark hair that roped around her head like a frame for her handsome, aristocratic face. I would have said she was beautiful if I hadn't noticed the hint of cruelty lying just beneath her even features and honeyed skin. As my gaze came to rest on her face, she gave me a devilish smile and a quick wink.

Cheeky little b.i.t.c.h, I thought to myself before turning my attention to the other woman. I thought to myself before turning my attention to the other woman.

She was older than the girl in the sari, but she had a much more welcoming face. Her bone-colored toga hugged her voluptuous curves in a way I would've killed for, and her perfect white teeth beamed out at me like headlights. Her long blond hair hung thick and curling to her shoulder blades, and her skin was a milky white, maybe even alabaster; it was hard to tell which-mostly because her skin, hair, and even her teeth were reflecting the sunlight so intensely that it was like it was their job in life to blind anyone who came in contact with her.

Having internally summed up my first impressions of the group-the good and the bad-I decided to get the ball rolling, keeping things on my terms as long as I could, so they couldn't force me into taking any stupid and/or pointless tests. I was gonna take charge, lay my cards on the table, and tell them what I I would and wouldn't do to get their stupid job. would and wouldn't do to get their stupid job.

"Let me just start off by saying that I am so not not gonna be taking any written tests here. I took the stupid SATs twice, and that was more than enough suffering for one lifetime-" I began, but the woman in the sari snorted, stopping me midsentence. gonna be taking any written tests here. I took the stupid SATs twice, and that was more than enough suffering for one lifetime-" I began, but the woman in the sari snorted, stopping me midsentence.

"What?" I said, totally annoyed at being snorted at.

She shook her head, her eyes lively beneath the fringe of her cinnamon lashes. When she spoke, her voice was deep and mellifluous, a hint of the East belying her obviously Indian origin.

"Nothing," she said smoothly. But I could tell that wasn't what she really really thought. thought.

"No, seriously. That was, like, totally weird and kinda rude," I said, feeling justified in my reaction. She was was being rude, and I was being rude, and I was so so gonna call her on it. gonna call her on it.

"It is just that . . . for the daughter of such a great man, you speak like an idiot."

I gaped at her. Did she just call me an Did she just call me an idiot idiot?

"Excuse me?" I countered, my voice starting to get all high and whiny. I knew I was dangerously close to throwing the magazine I'd rescued from the lobby at her-sari or no sari.

"You heard what I said," she replied. I could tell she was enjoying my agitation profusely, and it p.i.s.sed me off even more.

I rolled up the Elle Elle, threatening to lob it at her if she so much as opened her mouth again.