“Sometimes we call him Papa Luce,” Eloise chimed in as she downed the contents of her wineglass. “Maybe he’ll let you too when you get to know him better.”
“I have no intention of calling him anything,” I proclaimed.
“That’s a shame,” said Yeats. “Seeing as you’re here at his behest.”
What did that even mean? I glowered at Jake to show him I demanded an explanation. He smiled at me wanly as he sipped his wine. He held my glass out to me, indicating I should do likewise.
“Why don’t we talk about this later, darling,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. He wrapped a proprietary arm around my shoulders and tucked a strand of hair that had come loose behind my ear. “Tonight’s about having fun; business can wait.”
The demons eventually lost interest in me and focused their attention on eating and drinking themselves into a stupor. Their appetites were voracious given their svelte forms. After an interval of several hours a few guests rose to excuse themselves. I saw them stagger and disappear behind a stone partition leading to an inner chamber. Sounds of retching and grunting followed by the sound of running water filtered out, but no one seemed to take any notice. Then the guests would return to the table, dab delicately at the corners of their mouths with their napkins, and resume eating.
“Where did they go?” I said, leaning in to Jake.
Diego overheard and answered on his behalf. “To the vomitorium, of course. All the best eateries have them these days.”
“That’s disgusting,” I said, looking away.
Jake shrugged. “Many cultural practices seem disgusting to outsiders. Beth, you haven’t touched a thing. I hope the vomitorium thing hasn’t put you off.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Rejecting the food was a symbolic gesture, but I knew that I couldn’t keep it up indefinitely. I was fading away and sooner or later I would need sustenance if I planned to survive. Jake frowned with displeasure.
“You really should try a little something. Are you sure I can’t tempt you with anything?” He lifted a fruit platter and placed it in front of me. The fruit looked plump and delicious, like it had just been picked and drops of dew still clung to the skin. “How about a cherry?” He dangled one in front of me invitingly and I heard my stomach growl. “Or a persimmon. Have you ever tried one?” He cut one open with a knife, exposing the juicy yellow flesh inside. He slid a piece onto the end of his knife and offered it to me.
I wanted to turn my face away, but the scent was intoxicating. I was sure ordinary food didn’t smell this tempting. The smell seemed to lodge inside my head, taunting me. Maybe one little mouthful of fruit couldn’t hurt? I felt a dizzying sense of relief at the idea. But that wasn’t normal. Food was supposed to serve as sustenance, as fuel for the body. That was how Gabriel had always described it. I’d experienced the sensation of physical hunger many times on earth, but this was like a craving. Hungry or not, there was no way I was going to share food with Jake Thorn. I pushed the plate roughly away.
“In time,” Jake said, almost consoling himself. “You’re strong, Beth, but not so strong that I can’t break you.”
When the feasting was over, the party wandered in a different direction to an open candlelit space where cushions and lounges were scattered across the floor. The mood seemed less languid now as the guests began to stroke and caress one another with growing urgency. There was no coupling off, just a press of bodies with the single intent of seeking gratification. One man leered at Eloise, who responded by tearing off his shirt with her teeth. I turned modestly away when she began licking his chest and he responded with moans of excitement. Jake and I were the only ones still seated.
“Not joining them?” I challenged him.
“Debauchery gets a bit old after two thousand years.”
“Trying celibacy for a change?” My tone could not have been more caustic.
“No, just looking for something more.” He gazed at me in a way I found disconcerting and almost a little bit sad.
“Well, you’re not going to find it with me,” I said sternly.
“Maybe not tonight. But perhaps one day I’ll win your trust. I can afford to be patient. After all, I’ve got all of eternity to try.”
Eventually my glumness proved too much even for Jake because he mercifully let me retire early and I was returned to the relative safety of Hotel Ambrosia via a limousine. Tucker was already waiting for me in the lobby, ostensibly there to escort me to my room.
“How do you stand it?” I fumed as we got into the elevator.
“How does anyone stand being here? It’s so horrible and empty.” Tucker gave me a meaningful look and then pressed a button I guessed wouldn’t take us to the penthouse floor.
“Follow me,” he said simply.
We got out of the elevator and walked in silence through a deserted corridor until we reached a rich tapestry hanging on the far wall. The colored silk threads had been deftly woven to depict a flock of demons as feathered and clawed birds of prey, descending on a mortal man chained to a rock. Some tore at his flesh while others disemboweled him. Even through the fabric, the expression of agony on the man’s face was so vivid that I shuddered. Tucker pulled the tapestry aside to reveal a flight of steps chiseled into the stone. They seemed to lead deep underground, into the very core of the hotel. The air smelled different here, musty and dank compared with the perfumed lobby. There were no lights so I couldn’t see more than a hand’s breadth in front of me.
“Stay close,” Tucker said.
I descended after him, clutching the back of his shirt to make sure I didn’t lose sight of him in the suffocating darkness. The staircase was narrow and winding, but we managed to find our way to the bottom. When Tucker stopped, a brazier on the wall flickered into life. We seemed to be in an underground canal, filled with murky, green water. A breeze swirled around my feet and if I pricked my ears and listened very carefully, I thought I could hear the sound of voices whispering my name. Moss covered the earthen walls and water dripped from the roof of the tunnel. I noticed a wooden dinghy was moored by a platform near the steps. Tucker untied it and tossed the rope aside.
“Get in,” he said. “And try not to make any noise. We don’t want to disturb anything.” I didn’t like the way he said “anything” rather than “anyone,” and it unsettled me.
“Like what?” I asked, but Tucker focused his attention on directing the boat and refused to elaborate further. While the oars sliced silently through the muddy water of the canal I sat rigidly, my knuckles white from clutching the sides. I sensed movement far beneath us. Suddenly the surface rippled as though someone were skimming stones from the embankment.
“What’s that?” I whispered in alarm.
“Shh,” he replied. “Don’t make a sound.”
I obeyed but let my eyes wander back to the water. Bubbles appeared beneath the surface just as something pale and bloated became visible. Pale moonlike disks surrounded us, floating like buoys on the surface of the river. I leaned out of the dinghy, squinting to make out what the queer shapes were and clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream when I saw they weren’t buoys but disembodied heads. All around us cold, dead faces bobbed in the water, their hair fanning like seaweed, their vacant eyes staring straight at us. The one closest to me had once been a woman, but now her skin was puckered and gray like she’d spent too much time in the bath. The severed head knocked ghoulishly against the side of the boat. I swallowed back the questions on the tip of my tongue when Tucker threw me a warning look.
When he moored the boat near a flat outcrop of rock, I leapt out gratefully. We were standing in an alcove that was about the size of a small inlet. In the center was a body of water shimmering like diamonds. It flowed into several tributaries to an unknown destination. It was so clear I could see straight through to the pebbled floor. The rocks where we stood had been worn smooth as silk. I gave Tucker a questioning glance, unsure whether it was safe to speak yet or not.
“This is the place I was telling you about,” he said. “This here is the Lake of Dreams.”
“The one that will take me back home?” I asked, remembering our last conversation that had been cut short by Jake’s arrival.
“Yes,” Tuck said. “Not physically, of course. But you’ll be able to go there in your mind.”
“So what now?”
