Page 34 of Mortal Things

“No!” we shout in unison.

“Oh, come on!” she protests, gesturing toward the stage below. “Scarlet’s down there anyway, she’ll watch out for me!”

I glance from the balcony, as if I might catch a glimpse of the goddess of Love dancing with the mortal crowd, yearning for the desire that must be rolling through this space in waves tonight.

Katie seizes Charlotte’s wrist, yanking her gently back to the couches. “My patron goddess is here to have a good time,” she shouts, “not babysit. Besides, aren’t we all more fun?”

Amid laughter, Charlotte tugs Katie toward her, and they start dancing in our seating area, singing at the top of their lungs.

I turn away, shifting my attention instead to Katie, who tilts her head in such a becoming way that it makes me shiver. My gaze goes to the intricate canvas of tattoos along her arms. Scarlet may represent the quality of love between living beings, but the goddess thrives on love of craft, too, with a particularly soft spot for the arts. Like me, Katie is also sensitive to the soul within a creation.

Katie gives me a brilliant smile and offers me a glass. “Bet you could use a drink,” she says. Tonight, in this space, she looks radiant, as if energized by the elation and love all around her, the sheer joy and rapture of the crowd filling the theater.

Her voice is not loud, but somehow it’s easy to understand her even in this chaos. I’m about to say no, but then the rest of the table is raising their glasses, eager for an excuse to take a drink. After the events of today, I could use a break, too. I accept the glass from Katie.

“I’ve never been here before,” I shout to her.

She nods down to the dance floor. “Nothing like the mortal hunger for letting loose to feed my patron god,” she answers. Then she raises her glass. “To Charlotte,” she says.

“To Charlotte!” everyone responds, and she blushes with pleasure.

“To eternal life!” Katie says.

“To eternal life!” the others echo.

I repeat each toast as they go, although the words don’t quite resonate with me. Katie loves being a Harbinger more than her previous life. She had once been Katie Hill, a pop star who’d felt trapped by her own fame—until one fateful night, when her car collided head-on with a pickup truck going the wrong direction on the freeway. When Raven came to retrieve her soul in the wreckage, he told her the goddess of Love had an offer for her, and she had accepted it without a single hesitation. For her, becoming a Harbinger was the ultimate gift, the chance to be forgotten by everyone and start over with an anonymous life.

I’ve never asked her how it felt to give up those she loved. Perhaps she didn’t have any.

I toss back the drink—and the instant I do, I know it’s an enchanted liquor, with a mild aftertaste of honey. I glance questioningly at Katie, who just winks at me. It sends a warm, pleasant tingle through my body, filling me with a sudden surge of confidence, as if I must be more attractive than I actually am.

An illusion, surely. But Scarlet’s gift to her Harbingers is that they know how to make people feel happy, and at Katie’s touch, that conviction fills me now, an intoxicating sense of joy that loosens the knots in my stomach. No wonder she used to be famous.

It takes me a second to realize that Soren has shifted to sit beside me. “So much for your first test, eh, Regent-Elect?” he says.

He’s smiling, but it looks more like a threat, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. I stiffen, but just stare calmly back at him. “I’ll have another shot.”

“No doubt you’ll get all sorts of second chances.” Soren shrugs, his eyes searching mine. Testing me. “Raven favors you, after all. Doesn’t he?”

“Shut up, Soren,” Katie says with a sigh. “This is Charlotte’s night, not yours.”

“What, I can’t ask?” Soren nods at me. “You think she’s qualified?”

“It’s not up to us, is it?” Katie glares at him. “Leave the confirmation to the gods.”

“And someday we’ll be the gods,” Soren answers, a haughty curl appearing at the edge of his lips. He looks back at me. “Although I can’t speak to the quality of these future immortals.”

“What’s your problem with me, anyway?” I snap at him. “Just that I might become a Regent faster than you?”

“Knowledge is earned,” Soren replies. “But what would you know of that? You’re just a child.”

“No one asked for your unsolicited take,” Katie says.

“I know enough about death,” I answer.

“Ever read any of Rilke’s work?” His tone turns condescending. Beside me, Katie and Charlotte exchange an exasperated look. “No? An incredible poet and novelist. He said that in old age, one becomes a beginner again in death. Only those who have lived deeply can begin to approach its true meaning.”

I stare steadily at Soren. “Ever read Batman?” I ask. “No? He’d say that’s the thing about smart guys—they always think they’re smarter than everyone else.”