Fates' Folly (9 page)

It was not Sebastian. But it was a man. He
had a rolled up newspaper in his hand which he thumped against the
door as soon as I moved the curtains.

I opened the door, still pointing my gun at
his head. "Who the hell are you?" I rasped, still trying to swallow
the fear that had lodged in my throat.

He smiled. It was an ordinary, somewhat
benign smile, and it perfectly matched his simple khaki slacks and
oxford. His hair was brown and thinning, cut short, only a little
longer than a buzz cut. Military was not what came to mind though-
he was too relaxed. His face was also ordinary, maybe a little
pale, but his features were normal. He had a mouth, a nose, and
ears. Everything was where it was supposed to be and just like his
clothes, un-noteworthy and easily forgotten. He was harmless, at
least, I was pretty sure that's what he intended me to think.

I probably would have bought it too, but his
eyes gave him away. They sparked with intelligence and a hard,
sardonic edge.

"A very good question," he said, his voice
warm and even, "but tell me, Myra, is that really the question you
want answered? I have so many answers at my disposal, and you asked
the most mundane and simplistic of questions," he added with
patronizing disapproval.

I stepped back and slammed the door in his
face.

The last thing I needed right now was another
man in my life, and I certainly didn't need one talking down to me.
I put the safety back on the gun, and not even concerned that
another stranger had shown up knowing my name, I sat down in my
favorite chair and swiveled. After three swivels, with a whispered
weee on the last turn, I came face to face with my balcony guest,
sitting casually on the couch.

"I don't believe I've ever had anyone shut a
door in my face before," he said, his voice carrying the same even
tone as it had when he was on the balcony.

"I'm so glad I could help. Who are you?" I
said, doing my best to sound just as easy going.

He nodded his head, "As I said before, a very
good question."

This was getting old. "Are you making fun of
me?"

"Never," he said, without inflection.

Maybe he was just a smart-ass.

"Usually, if someone is being sarcastic, they
want the other person to realize it. Otherwise what would be the
point?"

"Self-amusement?"

"So, you were being sarcastic, but only for
your own benefit," I said, getting more and more ticked.

He leaned back, folding his hands in his lap.
"Does anyone really benefit from sarcasm?"

I rolled my eyes and tried again. "Who are
you?"

"You may call me Peter," he said.

Holy Hades! I practically jumped out of my
chair, barely catching the gun before it hit the floor. Laying it
in my lap, I asked, "As in Peter of the Pearly Gates?"

"Maybe you should put the gun away," he said
slowly, as if I were incompetent or crazy.

I am not incompetent.

The gun slid off my lap and onto the floor.
Okay maybe a little.

"The safety’s on, see," I said, showing him
the little button, before tucking the gun between my hip and the
chair cushion.

He smiled. "I'm delighted to know that you're
cautious."

Apostle or not, St. Peter was an annoying,
condescending ass.

"Why are you here? And when will you be
leaving?" I asked on a loud sigh, making my annoyance obvious.

Peter's smile grew wider. "Why would I want
to leave? I'm enjoying myself. You are a very likable young
woman."

I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes
again. "You know, I'm going to have to call bullshit on you
thinking I'm likable or friendly, not that I'm not capable, but I
have done nothing but treat you rudely from the moment I slammed
the door in your face. As far as you enjoying yourself, since you
have done nothing but smile while annoying the hell out of me, I
have to say that, yes, though most likely at my expense, you do
seem to be enjoying yourself. And my question remains, when are you
leaving? "

"Likable in spite of a foul mouth," he
said.

"You should have met my mama," I mumbled,
exasperated, starting to rock my chair back and forth.

"She was a delightful woman."

I really didn't like this guy. "Did you just
imply you've met my mother?"

His eyes twinkled. "Are you sure that's a
question you want answered?"

The last thing I needed was to know about my
mama's after life experience. "No. I do not want that questioned
answered. I actually don't want any questions answered except why
you are here and when you'll be leaving."

"One would have to wonder why you continue to
ask questions you'd already know the answer to, if only you applied
yourself," he said.

Fine, I'll play. "I'm assuming, because you
never actually answered me, that you're Peter of the Pearly Gates.
Based on that assumption, I know you're after Sebastian. I know
you've implied you know, or at least have met, my dead mother. And,
I know you think very highly of yourself and seem to have a problem
with ever getting to the point. What I don't know, is why you chose
to knock on my balcony door, and, considering that you seem to be
relaxing more and more by the minute, I haven't a clue when you'll
bless me with your departure."

Peter laughed, "Your assumptions are correct
in so much that I often do think too highly of myself, and I am
here in hopes of finding Sebastian. You said you didn't want to
know about your mother, so we'll leave that unanswered, but I
usually have no problem getting to the point. In all honesty, aside
from enjoying your inability to control your reactions to my
teasing, I was trying to educate you.

“When dealing with those of my power and
knowledge it is better to get straight to the heart of the matter.
Usually you'll only have one opportunity to do so- most celestial
beings of my propensity are not going to sit down and answer twenty
questions while you try and figure things out. To be blunt, in the
scheme of things, most would consider you insignificant and
unimportant, only valuable as a means to an end."

I couldn't believe he was fucking lecturing
me.

"Thank you for the reality check on my
worth," I said, interrupting his crisp speech long enough for him
to raise an eyebrow and then go on.

"However, I understand it's only natural to
be curious and want to have some say in one's own existence. So in
the spirit of sharing, please accept my advice, and, in the future,
if you find yourself in such a predicament again, ask ‘What do you
want?’ If you had asked me what I wanted, the questions of why I
was here, who I was and, most likely, when I would be leaving,
would have been answered."

Only if he chose to answer.

"Great." I stood up, pulling back the
curtains on the balcony doors. "Thank you so much for the mini
lesson. As you can see, Sebastian is not here, so you can leave.
Now."

"Ahh, but if Sebastian was all that I wanted.
I wouldn't have stood out on your balcony and knocked."

I flopped back into my orange chair. "Fine.
What do you want?"

"Would you believe me if I said intellectual
conversation?"

"No. And even if I did, my conversational
skills are lacking. I guess you'll be leaving now," I said,
hopefully.

"Your conversation is certainly not lacking.
If anything, you're a refreshing change," he said, stretching his
arms out on the back of the couch.

I gave him my don't bullshit me look.

He chuckled. "You doubt me, but consider it
from my point of view. After thousands of years, conversations tend
to replicate one another. Neither time, technology or," he winked,
"evolution can change the basic premise of human life, and,
unfortunately, the conversations in such lives. Add to that my well
known job title, and you can't possibly imagine just how monotonous
my usual interaction with mortals can become."

"A lot of am I getting into heaven stuff,
huh? What about your coworkers? You can’t be the only one roaming
around the puffy clouds, manning the Pearly Gates."

He winced. "There aren't actually any gates-
it’s a metaphor, symbolism."

Before I could respond, he waved his hand as
if physically batting the sentence away. "All immortals want to
speak about is shop, ‘Who sinned? Who didn't? Did I know so and so
was a closet Buddhist?’ et cetera. It gets old. You aren't afraid
of me. You aren't worrying about impressing me, and you haven't
been immortal long enough to have formed prejudices. Is it
surprising that I would find the idea of a conversation free of all
the trappings that accompany my position refreshing?"

I sighed. He sounded sincere- there wasn't
even a hint of the condescending asshole from a few minutes ago.
When was the next time I'd get to chat with a saint?

"Okay. Let me go get a bowl of magically
deliciousness, and we'll talk, but I'm warning you, my upbringing
didn't give me much of a background for intriguing, much less
intelligent, conversation."

I left Peter relaxing in the living room
while I made a quick jaunt into my bedroom to tuck my gun back
under the mattress and sprinted into the kitchen to pour myself a
bowl of cereal and milk. I plopped back into my orange chair, took
a bite of dehydrated marshmallows and waved Peter on with my
spoon.

"You start," I said.

"Why don't you tell me about Sebastian's
visit last night and your subsequent visit to the Underworld?"

"Hmm, those questions have nothing to do with
boredom and a lot to do with your search for Sebastian, almost like
you're interrogating me. I think my feelings are hurt."

I took a big bite of cereal, not really
caring about the dribble of milk on my chin, hell, I hoped it
offended him. "I believed your whole spiel about not having anyone
to talk to. It’s a good thing I've gotten some sugar in my system,
or I'd really be pissed."

"First, I'd hardly call this an
interrogation. Second, you believed me, because it was the truth.
The fact that I used the truth to get you to agree and speak with
me is another lesson in dealing with my kind. We are highly
manipulative. In actuality, you should be grateful. I'm using a lot
of effort to assuage my curiosity about you. If in the process of
getting to know you, with the application of a few harmless
questions, I gain information that will benefit me in my capture of
the Assassin, Sebastian," he smiled, "then lucky me."

He was still smiling, I guess waiting for me
to smile back or say something, but I couldn't. He didn't look
harmless anymore- his features had sharpened, become more angular,
his eyes darker, his smile predatory.

Holy shit he’s scaring the crap out of
me!

I took a deep breath- he was still smiling,
waiting for me to say something.

"Ha! You just like to hear yourself speak and
found someone new to lecture at," I said, managing to make my vocal
chords work, proud that my words only held a slight quiver.

"You've caught me," he said, his features
smoothly changing back into the mild middle-aged man I’d found on
my balcony.

I crunched a spoonful of cereal, trying for
once to think before I spoke, watching Peter, as his mouth curved
into a small pleasant smile, his eyes crinkling in amusement. What
the hell had just happened? I wondered if he had been playing with
me, another lesson for the new immortal. Probably.

"Why do I feel like this is some game? Like
you already know all the answers, like you already know what I'm
going to say, before even I do?"

Peter straightened the cuffs of his shirt.
"No one has all the answers. However, the phrase history repeats
itself is not entirely without merit. If you live long enough you
start to see patterns, and there is a certain feeling of
inevitability to it all, but not always. Personally, I very much
enjoy those moments of surprise. You could almost say I live in
anticipation, waiting for the monotony to be broken."

"So this is really about you being bored," I
said, getting pissed again.

Peter smiled a benign smile. "A simplistic
description, but I suppose still accurate."

"And I'm entertainment while you wait for
Sebastian," I said, all fear I had felt completely dissipating with
my building anger. I'm good like that.

"Again, a simplified description, and still
accurate."

I was never going to get anywhere with this
guy. He’d just admitted he was screwing with me because he was
bored. I was starting to wonder if I had a sign on my back: Please
fuck with me, my life isn't nearly exciting enough. How did Peter
know about me?

"How did you know to come here? Was there
some after-life news bulletin? Soul stolen! Hades acquires new
henchman! Update at eleven."

Peter laughed, "I think henchman is a most
appropriate title, but no, there was no such announcement. I, like
many immortals who serve in the After-life, as you termed it, have
a connection with the mortals whose souls we will most likely care
for when they have left their bodies to the earth."

"But I thought the reason Sebastian could
take my soul was because, at some point, subconsciously at least, I
had picked the Greek gods as my deities of choice."

"If what you say is true, why can you see
me?"

"Are you usually invisible?"

Peter nodded. “Unless I wish otherwise. Right
now I am not trying to achieve visibility, yet you can see me just
fine."

"Well yeah. I'm immortal, working in the
afterlife department. Doesn't it come with the job?"

Peter stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off
his pants. "Regardless, you would have seen me yesterday as well if
I had knocked on your door, before Sebastian found you."

He walked toward the door. I swiveled,
watching him.

"What are you saying? I don't
understand."