“Gracious! Look at the time!” Adrian said, pretending to look at a wrist watch. “Nessie and I must be getting back home! I need to be ready for work in the morning, you know.”
Vanessa frowned. “I thought you said you had arranged with the head of your department to get tomorrow off—”
“Yeah, but he changed his mind,” Adrian said quickly as he helped his wife up from the table. “Remember, I told you I got a text from him this afternoon—?”
“Huh?” Vanessa’s frown deepened for a second; then her gaze fell on the gaggle of goblins, their bare, paddlelike feet slapping against the cobblestones like wet laundry. “Oh, yeah! That’s right!” she said, gathering up her purse. “I was having such a good time I totally forgot!”
As a pride of sphinx moved through the street fair like lions on their way to a watering hole, Adrian and Vanessa hurried in the opposite direction, eager to return to the humdrum hazards of lower Manhattan.
“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all, was it?” I sighed.
“Nessie and Adrian stayed a lot longer than I gave them credit for,” Hexe said as he sipped his musket of barley wine. “Jubilee can be overwhelming even for Golgothamites—especially after dark. And it was good to see you enjoying yourself with your friends, especially after you’ve pushed yourself so hard at work. It’s time you relaxed, kicked back, and had some fun.”
“Sitting downwind from Ghastly’s food stall is making me queasy,” I said, pointing in the direction of the gaunt, bat-nosed ghouls lined up in front of the booth belonging to Golgotham’s worst cook. Given the clientele, I really didn’t want to know what was listed on the menu board.
As we wandered along Perdition Street, I realized what Hexe said about the Jubilee after dark was right—the feel of the festival had definitely changed with the setting of the sun. All the families—human and otherwise—had disappeared, surrendering the field to the more dedicated revelers and those citizens of Golgotham who normally shunned the sun’s rays.
As the moon rose, a group of nymphs cast aside their flimsy chitons and began to run naked through the streets hand in hand, weaving in and out of the crowds like living daisy chains, giggling like mischievous schoolgirls. An amorous frat boy made a grab for one of them, only to have her slip free of his arms in the form of a cloud, her laughter tinkling like a silver bell.
It was not long before the nymphs were joined by maenads, who spun about, crying out in ecstasy, wineskins in one hand and drawn knives in the other, their eyes blazing like funeral pyres. A herd of satyrs quickly fell in among them, adding wild piping and the crashing of cymbals to the merrymaking. Suddenly one of the passing nymphs grabbed my hand and yanked me into the street, spinning me around and around like a child playing with a top. Her laughter was as clear as an Attic sky and sweet as honey fresh from the comb, and for a heartbeat I understood how handsome young shepherds could abandon their flocks in mad pursuit of such impossible, primal beauty.
After two or three spins, the nymph let go of me and hurried after her sisters as they continued to wind their way through the festival-goers. I staggered backward, shaking my head to try to clear the dizziness from it, then turned to where Hexe had been standing a moment before, only to find him gone.
I looked around, at first thinking he must have gone to one of the concession booths to freshen his drink, but there was still no sign of him. However, there was an unpleasant smell in the air, one that seemed familiar, yet which I could not immediately place. Just as I was beginning to get worried, I caught a glimpse of purple hair half a block away, headed in the direction of the riverfront. I hurried after him, shouting his name, but his back was to me and my voice was drowned out by the noise of the carnival. I pulled out my cell phone to try to call him, only to find my battery drained.
Just as I was closing in, he suddenly ducked into one of the nameless alleyways that thread their way through the neighborhood. Upon following him, I was surprised to find Hexe standing in the middle of the narrow passageway with his back to me, his limbs twitching and jerking as if afflicted with Saint Vitus’ dance.
“Hey!” I shouted, more exasperated than angry. “What’s the big idea ditching me back there?”
Upon hearing my voice, the thing I had mistaken for Hexe turned to face me. Although it possessed the exact physical build, with the same color hair, worn in the exact same style, and was dressed in identical clothing as Hexe, the face was a blank oval, save for a pair of gaping, empty holes where the eyes should be.
As I backed away from the decoy, I caught the distinct smell of scorched metal, as if someone had left a saucepan on the burner for too long. I turned to see Boss Marz looming behind me, blocking my escape.
“Foolish little nump.” He grinned. “Don’t you know better than to believe anything you see on Jubilee Night?”
Chapter 7
The next time I opened my eyes I was relieved to find myself looking across a table into the real Hexe’s face, not that of the hideous simulacrum Marz had conjured forth to lure me away from the crowds. That relief was short lived as I realized I was tied to a chair and Hexe’s arms were pinned down atop the table by what looked like croquet hoops fitted into holes drilled into its surface. The fingers of both his hands were kept splayed and rigid in metal splints, therefore preventing him from working magic.
“Did they hurt you?” he asked anxiously. Although his purple hair was hanging down into his face, I could see that his right eye was blackened and his lower lip was split.
“I’m okay,” I replied, looking around as best I could at our surroundings. We seemed to be in a warehouse of some kind, and I could distinctly smell the river. “What is this place?”
“We’re somewhere in the Stronghold—the Maladanti’s private pier,” Hexe replied.
“How did we get here?”
“Marz’s familiar grabbed me the moment that nymph started spinning you around,” he explained. “They must have been watching us the whole time, waiting to strike. He teleported in and out within the blink of an eye.”
“I thought I caught a whiff of something hellish.” I grimaced.
“This is all my fault,” Hexe said bitterly. “We should have left the festival when I saw Marz, but I was unwilling to back down. Because of my pride, I’ve put both of us in danger.”
“How gracious of you to take the blame, Serenity. But then, you’ve always been one for noblesse oblige,” Boss Marz said as he emerged from the shadows, his familiar riding his shoulder, trailed by a pair of Maladanti goons. He smiled as he approached us, like a gracious host greeting welcome guests. “While I was away in the Tombs, I learned how little there is to do when one is in solitary confinement with steel mittens locked about your hands. They only allowed me the free use of my hands—and then, only the right one—for a few minutes each day to tend to meals, ablutions, and excretions. Having to rely on my weak hand to feed and groom myself proved quite eye-opening.”
“Not enough to take you off the Left Hand path, it would seem,” Hexe replied acidly.
“Ah, but it did provide me with a great deal of inspiration.” Marz’s smile became almost beatific as he stroked his familiar, Bonzo, who screeched and flashed his tiny fangs in my direction. “Gaza, show him the implements.”