Chapter 3

“Is he dead?”

“No, no. At least, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so, Telese?”

“Well, I mean, it would be a first if a human just keeled over dead from learning about us. I think.”

Eric was aware of voices around him, but it took him a moment to remember whose they were. His eyes snapped open. There was the woman from the dorm"Telese"and his best friend, Van. But he wasn't in his dorm anymore. Instead, he was in something that looked like a dimly lit cave with weird symbols all around him. He sat straight up and backed against a slimy, damp wall.

“Hey, there we go,” Telese said brightly. She turned to Van and narrowed her eyes. “See, told you. Not dead.”

“You just didn’t sound sure, is all,” Van argued.

“Where the hell am I?” Eric demanded. He knew that Telese had some weird powers and could make cupcakes move through the air and turn on lights from across the room. He knew that she knew Van from some weird, supernatural realm. He had no idea what Van was capable of.

“Eric,” Van said, putting his hand up. “Calm down.”

“No! I’m not going to calm down! You didn’t see her make your cupcake fly out of the fridge so she could eat it! I don’t"“

“Actually, that’s exaggerating. It sort of gently floated"“

“You ate my cupcake?” Van accused, rounding on Telese again.

Telese shrugged at him. “I needed to make a point. For what it’s worth, it wasn’t the best cupcake I’ve ever had. Kind of dry and the frosting"“

“EXCUSE ME!” Eric shouted at the two. They both turned to him, Van looking apologetic and Telese looking bored. “You are some weird . . . thing,” he said to Telese. She gave him an indignant scowl. “And you….” He said to Van. “You told me you’re some . . . some math lord? I’m in some weird cave thing, with hieroglyphs all around me! And you two are trying to sort out details of a stupid cupcake? What are we doing here? What are you two planning to do to me?”

“Talk to you, Fenny. That’s all.” Telese said. She looked around the cave. “These hieroglyphs are protection spells. Nobody can hear or see us here.”

“Protection? What do we need protection from?”

“My father,” Telese winced. “Arguably the most powerful being in existence. Maybe with the exception of the Creator and the Dark One, but they’re always tied up with the entire being of all of the universe and Earth is such a small blip on their map.”

Eric stood up and stepped away from the wall. He took a closer look at the pictures on the wall. They were obviously ancient, as the limestone had worn around it. They were definitely detailed, looking like fleshed-out humans with strangely-shaped, featureless heads rather than stick and angle based pictures he had seen online.

“The early humans here tried to draw us. My niece, Megaera, was so pleased and amused, that she gave the humans the ability to work out some magic through their drawings. In return, they created a sanctuary for us in these caves, unbeknownst to my father.”

“So where are we?” Eric asked, turning to her and Van again.

“Just outside of Palermo,” Van answered.

“Sicily?” he repeated incredulously. “We’re in Sicily?”

“Yes,” Telese said. “Specifically the Grotta dell’Addaura in Mount Pellegrino.” She looked around the cave again. “It’s been closed off for ages. It’s dangerous in here, you know. Unstable, falling boulders, things like that. For some reason, the Sicilian governance hasn’t concerned itself with doing anything about it.”

“So nobody comes around here?” Eric noted, feeling a little uneasy. If nobody came here, it meant that nobody would be able to find him.

“Aside from occasional vandals, no.” When her eyes met his again, she shook her head. “Relax, nothing is going to happen to you here.”

“So then why are you two bringing me here to some cave outside of civilization?”

Van shook his head. “No, no, not ‘you two’. I told her to just stay at Greenridge. She insisted on this.”

Eric narrowed his eyes at Van. “And you don’t know what’s going on? I find that hard to believe.”

“Light Lords don’t necessarily concern themselves with Sirens.” Telese explained. “Especially ones that have gone rogue.”

“I didn’t ‘go rogue’, I took a personal day!” Van corrected. “My job was stressful.”

“Right, being asked to take away the entire knowledge of Mathematics from human beings would be stressful,” Telese agreed. “But I have to question the ‘personal day’, being that the day you disappeared was in 1791.”

Van glowered. “I couldn’t do it, Telese. The things humans became capable of as Mathematics progressed . . . I needed to see it for myself. It was amazing.”

Eric was now extremely confused. “You were asked to take math away from humans? Who asked this?”

“My father,” Telese said. “Alexandros.”

“The guy we’re hiding from. Why did he want math taken away?”

Telese’s lips twitched. “You heard Vangelicus. Humans thrived with math. It was astounding. The more understanding you had of math, which is a means to decode the whole of the One Language"the language that the Creator and the Dark One use"the more powerful your kind became.”

“And so this . . . this Alexandros,” Eric said slowly. “He doesn’t want humans to be so powerful?”

“Nope. The more you understand, the harder it is to completely eradicate you from existence.”

Eric tilted his head a little. “So he doesn’t like humans.”

“He’s not your biggest fan,” Telese said, running her fingers over one of the hieroglyphs, “that’s certain.”

Eric looked at the drawings and reached out for it. Telese raised a hand and his stopped, as though striking an invisible barrier.

“Sorry, you can’t touch. It’s bad enough to lean against them, but touching them will compromise the glyph.”

Eric stared at her blankly. “But you touched one.”

“I don’t have the same oils in my skin that your kind does,” she explained, holding up her hand as though Eric could see this. “Human prototype, not human, remember?”

Eric sat on the ground, feeling weak again. Telese sat in front of him and motioned for Van to take a seat next to her. “How about I start from the beginning, and then you can base some questions on what you hear?”

Eric nodded, still dazed.

“So, originally, the Creator created things. Planets, stars, moons, matter, all of the things that came before this planet. When he created this planet, he noticed that, with its distance from your sun and the amount of water, that small but resistant amoeba began to form.”

“Why did he make all of this?”

Telese shrugged. “Bored, I’m pretty sure. Not important. What is important is that He and the Dark One had a bit of an argument about what to do with the amoeba. The Creator wanted to protect it and let it thrive, but the Dark One wanted it gone, because it ruined the beauty of the planet.”

“So, the Dark One. Is that . . . I don’t know, Satan or something?”

 “No. Satan is an interpretation the humans have of the Dark One. One of many interpretations in the world. But Satan, in mythology, was Lucifer, the fallen angel. The Creator was the source and existence of light and the Dark One was the source and existence of darkness. Originally, this was literal. Day was the Creator’s time to work, night was the Dark One’s time. Because of his connection with darkness, that’s why so many human stories have scary tales happening at night.”

“But apparently the Creator was stronger than the Dark One, because we didn’t die out as amoeba.”

“No, it was because the Dark One was outnumbered. My father, Alexandros, insisted that the amoeba being saved. He felt they would be useful. My father was consulted during many of the creation and destruction of things, being the only other living thing in existence. The Dark One had to concede, because it was two against one, but he wanted part of the organisms for his own purposes. The Creator wanted the rest to continue creating, and the Dark One wanted to develop life forms that would work to destroy, in order to retain balance. My father would be the objective eye, making sure that neither side became overwhelming. Though the Creator’s work and the Dark One’s work are in every single thing in all of existence, nothing is as volatile, organic or ever-changing as humans. My father concerns himself with Earth and Earth alone.”

“So, if you’re a prototype, how . . . .”

“Did I come into being?” Telese finished. “The Creator tried to make beings out of the amoeba and saw that they weren’t lasting very long. He gave them knowledge and the ability to do things that you would consider magic. The Dark One thought this cheating, so he gave his being likewise powers, and the two battled. They look almost like humans. I guess they would be considered the proto-prototype of humanity. But they also have various colours of wings, eyes that glow"as you saw earlier"even our hair can change multiple colours when we want it to. Hence, Vangelicus’ questionable fashion statement.”

“Hey, I will have you know that this fashion statement gets me a lot of attention,” Van objected.

Telese raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure it does.”

“Anyway,” Eric said, pressing onward. “So are you from one of these Light or Dark things?”

Telese shook her head. “Neither, actually. There was a being that was not interested in the Light or Dark, but in love with the Earth itself. Eve, if you will. She wanted to remain there, to sort of raise the new creatures that were coming from the amoeba. She saw a lot of potential in the world around her and the creatures starting to evolve in it.”

Eric tilted his head. “So, this Eve person was"“

“My mother,” Telese said. Her voice seemed forced, and her posture went a little rigid. Eric could tell it was a tense subject for her. “Before, none of us had names. Humans came up with names. My mother was called Mnemosyne by the Greeks. My father thought she was the most beautiful and amazing of the new creatures. True love took its course. Or demanding, possessive ownership, whatever you want to call it, and 568 of us were born, with me being the last of them.”

“568 children?” Eric asked incredulously.

Telese moved the corner of her lips upward, as though brushing off the statement. “Families were larger back then, what can I say?”

“Right,” Eric said, shaking his head. “So, you were the original humans?”

“Correct, Fenny. We were the first thing to start young and grow with the environment. Originally, the Creator thought we were perfect and allowed us to live on Earth, but after you guys evolved, plans changed. We were supposed to protect you and assist you along with existence. It’s been our job since you came out of the trees and walked on the ground.”

“So how come you’re supposed to protect us?”

“I’m not sure,” Telese said. “We were told to protect you, so that’s what we did. We’ve been divided into three occupations"the warriors, the healers and the diplomats.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. Which one are you?”

“A diplomat. The diplomat, actually. I oversee all of the other diplomats and handle the more sensitive issues. There are about 190 of us diplomats between my sisters, my nieces and myself.”

Eric nodded, impressed. “That’s a lot of diplomats”

“That’s less than 200 diplomats for every single civilization on Earth,” Tilly said, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, that’s not a lot of diplomats. How do you guys manage?”

“Before, it was a little rough, but we managed,” Telese explained. “But you guys kept multiplying, and it was no longer manageable.”

“So when you can’t do your jobs?” Eric asked.

“War. Famine. Disease. The usual.”

Eric was silent for a moment. “So what are you guys doing to take control?”

“I’m glad you ask," Telese said, sitting up straighter and smiling brightly, though the cheeriness did not reach her eyes,  "Just today, my father announced that we will be terminating the diplomats’ work on Earth and reducing the healers. The warriors will work, but with the odds tipped with more Dark World aligned humans than Light World aligned humans, it’s not going to make much difference. Especially with all of those amazing weapons you guys have created to take out entire cities with one, remote-controlled bomb.”

“So total annihilation is what we’re looking at?” Van chimed in.

“No, no, there will still be enough humans left for my father to enslave and utilize their technology.” Telese explained.

“If he’s the most powerful being in all of existence,” Eric asked. “Why does he need our technology?”

“Ah, now, remember how we talked about him not wanting humans to have too much knowledge? The same goes for the Sirens.” She shrugged. “I have no clue what he wants with your technology. I know he’s always asking us about its advancements and progression, so, assumedly, he’s interested in it on some level.”

Van shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense, Telese.” He stood up and began pacing. “He wanted mathematics taken from humans, and now he’s encouraging technological advances, which depend on mathematical advances? He wasn't keen on the growth of humans because it's not in his interest.”

Eric looked up at Van. “You think it’s less to do with interest and more to do with fear, don’t you?” He looked back at Telese. “You said so twice; he doesn’t want humans knowing too much. It makes them difficult to get rid of. So if they know everything"“

“"they may end up even more powerful than him,” Van finished slowly. He turned to look at Eric and Telese. “He would lose his control over humans.”

Telese looked from Eric to Van with an unreadable expression, as though she was trying to keep all thoughts to herself. “It’s not implausible. I’ve never really known Father to be afraid of many things, so I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“So I guess the next question is, why are you here?” Eric asked. “You don’t seem too keen to bring on the apocalypse or whatever this is.”

Telese stood up and walked over to a dim corner of the cave. She reached into the shadows and picked up something red.

The book.

She walked back over to Eric and sat back down, holding it up for him to see. “This,” she said. “This is what I am supposed to collect from the human that I’m further required to dispose of after finding out who they spread this knowledge to.”

Eric stood to his feet and Van stood in front of him, facing Telese.

“Oh, really, relax, you two,” she said, rolling her eyes and standing up. “Clearly, I’m not planning to do that. Instead, I’m willing to give this back to you. Translate as much as you can.”

Eric and Van both watched her skeptically.

“What’s in this for you, Telese?” Van asked finally.

Telese feigned a look of indignation. “Vangelicus, you wound me. Can’t I just want to protect the whole of humanity? Maybe I just want the underdogs to come through.”

“Let me tell you something about the Sirens, Eric,” he said, not taking his eyes off Telese. “They aren’t known for their deep compassion. The healers are a little more sympathetic. But the diplomats and warriors?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “The farthest their concern for humans goes is the lament over the long time working to just get them by until now.”

Telese scoffed. “I feel that you have a callous and unfair assessment, Vangelicus. It’s not like we hate humans, we’re just tired all of the time. Tired of taking orders, tired of living a life of complete servitude to creatures that don’t even know we exist and tired of being threatened with death or torture by our father.”

“So that’s what you get out of this,” Van said. “If you save humanity, you can continue their knowledge and, by virtue, their independence. This would make your protection and service obsolete.”

“It would make us free,” Telese said, and for the first time, Eric heard a longing in her voice. “If my father wipes out humanity, when they’re so close to being strong enough to challenge him, things will continue as they are, or worse.” She shifted her eyes to Eric. “He may decide he doesn’t need the Sirens anymore. We are constantly reminded that we’re expendable. He might make good on his threats for once.”

“But what if humans want you dead or something?” Eric asked her.

“Assuming they could kill us? How would you know us from any human female? We have to show ourselves to you, and it’s not like we’re about to do that all of the time. We can walk right beside you for years without you ever suspecting we’re different.”

Eric thought about it. Translating the book would be an incredible feat. But it would also change everything he knew about the world.

“I don’t know,” Eric said doubtfully.

Telese nodded. “Understandable. How about this; take the book. Hold it for 24 hours. You don’t have to worry about translating it. If you want to, you can, if you don’t, then don’t. I’ll come back in 24 hours to see what you want to do. If you say you don’t want it, I’ll return it to father and say everything is done.”

“And if I do?” Eric asked. He could hear Van groan behind him.

“If you want it, then we’ll go from there.” Telese explained.

Eric was silent again. Telese watched him for a moment. “What do you have to lose, Fenny?”

“Your life, his life, his life is what he has to lose, Telese,” Van answered. “This is crazy! Going against Alexandros? Who does that?”

“You, for starters,” Telese pointed out, and Van fell silent. She turned back to Eric. “No strings. No commitment. Just hold on to the book, and I’ll come back to your dorm this time tomorrow. Which, of course, is 2 am, so be dressed appropriately.”

Eric looked at the book in her hands. It wouldn’t hurt just to hold it. If everything she said was true, they were in trouble for looking at the book anyway.

Part of him really believed that this was a dream. But if it was a dream, it was the most real dream he had ever had. He could smell the damp cave walls, see the strange illuminating glow around them and was aware of every detail of the woman standing in front of him; the various shades of auburn and red in her hair, the etchings of the head of Medusa on the buttons of her thick, wool overcoat and the intensity of some sort of power beneath her calm, confident demeanor.

The intensity that reminded him of somebody else.

“Do I know any other Sirens?” he asked slowly.

Telese seemed a little surprised by the question. “I don’t know your contact list, Fenny,” she answered. “I guess it wouldn’t be impossible. There are a couple that are bound to the Eastern seaboard of America alone.”

“Bound?” Eric asked.

Telese sighed. “Yes, yes, ‘bound’. Tied to. Charged with. Assigned. I thought you were a language genius or something.”

“What does it mean when you’re ‘bound’?”

“It means,” Telese said, impatiently, “that we take on the characteristics of that area, and that, while we can move around and work wherever we need to, we become integrated into that culture to blend in. Look, if you want to know the deepest workings of what it means to be a Siren, I’m going to need you to commit. Not that it threatens us at all, but it’s quite a bit of information, and I would rather not waste my time explaining it to no avail. I’m a busy woman.”

Eric paused for a moment more. What if, by some insane chance, everything she was saying was true? What would that mean for the rest of his life? He thought about what Van and he had discussed. Was he ready for some big unknown?

“If you don’t want anything to do with it, you don’t need to,” Telese said again, as though reading his thoughts. “If this is too much for you, then you just hand me the book, go back to your life. You can wait for the progression of things, see if you make it through, if all of your loved ones make it through.”

Eric looked from the book and then back to her eyes, which had become a little greener. “But I promise you, progress they will, whether you’re ‘ready for it’ or not. And it will be very, very soon.”

“Isn’t this a bit too much to ask a human, Telese?” Van asked.

“Vangelicus, I’m a very desperate Siren right now,” she said, not taking her eyes off of Eric. “I’m afraid I have no other options.”

“If I do decide to do it?” Eric asked. “What will happen?”

“For the time being,” Telese said, “You’ll go on about your daily life and translate it.” She looked around the cave that she, her sisters and her older nieces used to play in with the young, early humans. “Things will fall into place after that, I promise.”

Eric watched her for just one more moment.

Slowly, he reached his hand out for the book.

Telese smiled. She placed the book in his hands, and he could see relief deep in her guarded expression.

Suddenly the air around him burst into a strong breeze, then an overpowering wind. The details of the cave began to fade and everything darkened.

Before complete blackness, Eric heard Telese’s voice say. “Start where you left off.”

 

***

 

If there was one thing Telese had been right about concerning Mortimer, it was that his manor was impressive.

Somewhere in the depths of the Dark World, there was a beautiful island-like section, full of the smell of sea waters and tropical fruits and flowers. Mortimer had requested it after 300 years of successful numbers, and the Dark One had been generous enough to deliver. The manor itself was a Mediterranean-style wonder, with 200 different rooms, including 25 bedrooms and six different bars. Its sandstone and red-shingle roof was brightened by the “sun” that the Dark One had provided Mortimer with.

Currently, he was in one of his media rooms, watching a recent performance of Macbeth while drinking a mudslide, his usual choice of drinks. Personally, he hated Macbeth, or anything having to do with Shakespeare, but the actress playing Lady Macbeth had just signed a rather promising binding pact with the Dark Lord in exchange for success, and he liked to see that his end of the deal had gone through. His black hair was pushed back as best as possible and he had traded his usual suits for a plain black t-shirt and jeans. It was one of his personal days, and he meant to use it as such.

Just as he was starting to doze off, drink still in hand, there was a crash in the kitchen. He opened his eyes, huffing in irritation. He placed his drink on the table next to him and quietly stood up. Looking above the mantle, he tried to decide; to stab or shoot the intruder. In the end, he decided stabbing would be a little less messy if he aimed right. He would be able to have a chat with them, as well.

He chose his long knife with the silver-vined handle. A little clumsy, but it was also a little heavier. He loved the choice between a sharp object and a blunt object.

He crept through the adjoining sitting room, just to the threshold of the kitchen. He heard plates being moved, the refrigerator being opened and closed. He narrowed his eyes. The intruder broke in to steal food?

“What in the Dark One’s name is this, even?” a young female’s voice asked.

Mortimer recognized the voice and stepped into the kitchen, rounding the corner where there was a heavy-set woman with long brown dreadlocks tied up on her head. Her long black shirt and black leggings seemed to make her pale skin and brown eyes stand out. Her septum was pierced, with the beads of the ring protruding just under her nose.

“Thalia, do you realize how quickly I could have just killed you?” he asked her in his Southern drawl. “Or at least severely beat you?”

Thalia looked up at him. “What is this, Mortimer?” she asked, with a hint of New Jersey in her otherwise unremarkable voice, holding up one of the mystery packages in his fridge. “Do you even know what’s in here at all?”

“I want to know why you are in there, Thalia. You’re my assistant, not my roommate.”

“You don’t pay me enough to not raid your fridge.”

“I don’t pay you to at all,” Mortimer corrected.

“Right? Until you decide to compensate me for being awesome, I’m going to take your food.” Thalia informed him, returning to the fridge.

“I really think awesome is a strong word,” Mortimer said as Thalia began assembling a sandwich, “Annoying might be more appropriate. Now, tell me why I shouldn’t at least club you a few times.”

“Guess who had a meeting with all of the Sirens today,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich and watching Mortimer smugly as she chewed.

Mortimer smiled. If he had to be honest, Thalia was easily his most intelligent and most resourceful assistant. She never let him in on how she found out so much information on Alexandros, but she never lacked valuable knowledge of what was going on with the Sirens.

“So,” Mortimer said, leaning on a counter and watching her with interest. “Papa Siren had a sit-down with the ladies. What happened?”

“Other than acted like some patriarchal a*s?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “Apparently, he’s really mad at us. We’re too perfect and too many humans owe us favors. So he’s taking his toys and going home.” She took another bite of sandwich. “And of course, by ‘toys’, I mean ‘all of the diplomats and most of the healers’.”

Mortimer weighed what this meant. If Alexandros was pulling most of the Sirens from duty, it meant that he wanted a global purge of humanity.

“Alexandros was always a sore loser,” Mortimer noted, “Let me guess, the Sirens sat quietly and obeyed.”

“Well, that’s where it gets interesting,” Thalia said. “Sources say that your BFF stood up to Alexandros. Pretty loudly, in fact.”

Whatever news Thalia could have given him, he had not been expecting that.

“Tilly stood up to her father? No, we can’t be talking about the same Tilly that looks over her shoulder every time somebody says her father’s name. Your source has to be handing you some sort of lie, Thalia.”

“Okay. Except it was sources. Plural. Three to be exact.”

Mortimer raised an eyebrow at her. “And you spoke to them separately?”

“I’m not an idiot. I know what I’m doing. All three of them told me the same story separately.”

“Well, now, this is an interesting development, I’m sure Alexandros was not entirely pleased about that.”

Thalia took the last bite of her sandwich. “Well, he did ask her to ‘stay behind’ after the meeting.”

If Telese had stood up to her father, maybe Mortimer had succeeded in planting seeds of rebellion after all. He wondered how he could use this information. It would have to be handled delicately.

“So she confirmed the whole Atlantis and Pompeii thing?” Thalia asked, breaking him from his musings.

“Yes, she did. You were right about that.”

“I’m always right,” Thalia said. She looked at him with a thoughtful look. “Imagine being able to completely sink an entire island and bury a whole city.”

“And you couldn’t find out exactly what it was that triggered this?” Mortimer asked.

“Nope. My sources got very tight-lipped after that. It was probably too painful to talk about. Or maybe they were afraid that her guard dog would find out and unleash fury.”

“Mm, Morgan is very obstructive when it comes to Tilly,” he agreed, “It’s a pity we can’t find out. It’d only serve to help both of them.”

“Yeah, well, good luck with that. Maybe you should have a chat with Morgan sans Telese. If they’re separate, maybe she won’t be so quick to bare her teeth.”

“Do you know, in your unlimited wisdom of all things, Morgan’s history?”

“Yeah,” Thalia said, unfazed by Mortimer’s jab. “She was some big to-do in Ireland a long time ago. Probably took her name from the Morrigan, I would assume. The Irish goddess of war.”

“It’s truly sad how you are one of the only people around here that is knowledgeable of just about everything, but your knowledge of Irish history is lacking.”

Thalia frowned at Mortimer. He continued. “The Morrigan wasn’t actually one goddess, but a trinity of them. The Irish named them Badb, Macha and Nemain. All of them were pretty terrifying, but one in particular was rumored to kill a hundred men in battle with just one battle cry. Nemain was what became associated with this singular Morrigan.”

“Okay, so she was named after one of the Irish war goddesses. I don’t see how this affects you talking to her.”

“The names were names given to the creatures by the Irish. We know the same exact deities by different names.”

“Which are?”

“Currently,” Mortimer said, “they prefer to go by Roxy, Telese and Morgan.”

“Wait, wait,” Thalia said. “So the three ‘goddesses of death’ or whatever . . . those are three Sirens?”

“Particularly three Sirens with a temper problem. Tilly may have the nasty reputation as Ruiner of Whole Civilizations, but Roxias"the current lead warrior"and Morgesta are not known for their patience, sympathy or their weakness.”

Thalia just stared at him with a look that was mixed with shock and horror.

“So, would you like to lead the discussion with Morgan?” he asked.

“Not really,” she answered.

“Well, I most certainly value my life a little more than that. So I guess we’ll have to find other means. The diplomats are being pulled off of duty? This means either Tilly has a lot of free time on her hands"which I doubt Alexandros would be so kind as to grant her time to brood over how upset she is"or he’s found another job to keep her preoccupied.”

“Let me guess,” Thalia said. She mimicked his accent. “You need to go find out what Tilly is up to. You need to report back to me. When you find out what Tilly is up to and report back to me, I’ll give you a paycheck of $5,000. At least.”

“Everything except for that very last part and the fact that I don’t sound like that at all.”

“When are you going to pay me for what I do, Mortimer?” she demanded.

“Never,” he answered. “If you didn’t want to be free labor, you shouldn’t have made a pact. Look on the bright side,” he said. “You only have about 400 more years, and then you’re free.”

“I think I’m going to file this away in my ‘get to later’ pile.”

“You have a ‘get to later’ pile?” he asked, frowning.

“Yep,” Thalia said brightly. “Things like ‘pick up my dry cleaning, Thalia’ and ‘restock my bar, Thalia’ go in the ‘get to later’ pile.”

Mortimer was surprised by her audacity. “You don’t get to have that pile,” he said. “You are supposed to do whatever I tell you!”

“Yeah, well, some things are just more important than others. I guess maybe if you made it worth my while from time to time, I might be more motivated to put forth the extra effort.”

“I haven’t killed you yet, Thalia,” he pointed out. “And you have no clue how much of an effort that restraint is sometimes.”

“So? Big deal. Everybody in the world has refrained from killing me. You need to up your ante.”

Mortimer sighed. “If you find this out for me, you can have a bottle of whatever you want from the bar downstairs.”

“The bar is getting really low on stock,” Thalia pointed out.

“Well, then, I guess that’s your motivation to get to that part of the pile.”

Thalia rolled her eyes and muttered obscenities under her breath before walking out of the room. Mortimer smirked and walked back to his now-melted mudslide and the terrible version of Macbeth.