Cat's Claw (17 page)
Authors: Amber Benson
Tags: #Fantasy, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #General, #Fantasy fiction, #Fiction - Fantasy, #Science Fiction And Fantasy, #Fantasy - Contemporary
My older sister, Thalia, had been a member of my dad’s Executive Board (she had held the title Vice President of Passage for a while), but when she realized that no matter how well she did by the company, she would never attain the highest position (President and CEO), she went kind of mental and tried to force my dad out of his job with the help of the vicious demon Vritra, whom she had married in secret when she was sent to take over the Asian offices of Death, Inc. Her plan had been foiled, but—even though it was an isolated incident—it did make me seriously wonder if my dad’s system of corporate leadership wasn’t going to open him up to more of these kinds of attacks in the future.
As far as I could see, a democratic approach to Death was a neat idea in theory, but when those below you craved power, there was no way to stop them from just reaching out and trying to take it—regardless of how egalitarian you think you’ve made your system.
Anyway, my dad didn’t just restrict his renovation to the inner workings of Purgatory; he also upgraded the building itself. He had the Hall of Death completely redone, added a whole wing of Executive Offices, even built a cafeteria that was so huge it could seat every employee of Death, Inc., in it at the same time. He had also restricted the use of Purgatory to corporate work only.
Before his installation as the new Death, Purgatory had been used as a sort of prison, where souls could be held without judgment for as long as Death saw fit. There was no such thing as habeas corpus then and my dad, who had lived his human existence in America, thought this was bullshit. He knew what could happen when a soul’s rights were violated (slavery anyone?), and he refused to allow this practice to continue in Purgatory. Upon taking charge of Death, he immediately liberated all the prisoners that were being held in Purgatory unjustly, sending them out for judgment and release to Heaven or Hell. Now only very high-level political prisoners were held there—but only after they had been judged and sentenced by an outside court made up of jurors unaffiliated with Purgatory.
Looking at all the things he’d done since he’d taken office, it was pretty apparent that my dad was kind of an amazing guy. I wish I could say that I’d always known about
all of the above
, but the truth was that the first I’d heard about it any of it was from Jarvis, sitting in my dad’s library while we hashed out a plan to break into the Hall of Death and steal one very important Death Record (and get a peek at anther one!). Clio, it seemed, was well aware of my dad’s triumphs because she spent the whole time nodding her head in agreement as Jarvis explained them all to me.
all of the above
, but the truth was that the first I’d heard about it any of it was from Jarvis, sitting in my dad’s library while we hashed out a plan to break into the Hall of Death and steal one very important Death Record (and get a peek at anther one!). Clio, it seemed, was well aware of my dad’s triumphs because she spent the whole time nodding her head in agreement as Jarvis explained them all to me.
I guess you could say I’d been out of the loop for a long time—and I had—but the real reason I was so in the dark about my dad’s life was because I hadn’t
wanted
to know anything about it. I’d spent my childhood aware of, but relatively incurious about, my heritage, and then as a teenager I’d made a concerted effort to bury that aspect of myself so far down into my subconscious that it was like it didn’t even exist at all.
wanted
to know anything about it. I’d spent my childhood aware of, but relatively incurious about, my heritage, and then as a teenager I’d made a concerted effort to bury that aspect of myself so far down into my subconscious that it was like it didn’t even exist at all.
Had anyone asked me why I’d chosen to disinherit myself from my family, my stock answer would’ve been that I’d seen my two best friends killed in a car accident and after that I hadn’t
wanted
to be immortal anymore—living forever while everyone and everything you love dies? I don’t think so—but if I really wanted to be honest with myself, I supposed the real answer lay buried deep in my psyche. The truth was that I’d been living in denial for a very long time . . . and the saddest part about the whole thing was that I had personally chosen this half existence for myself.
wanted
to be immortal anymore—living forever while everyone and everything you love dies? I don’t think so—but if I really wanted to be honest with myself, I supposed the real answer lay buried deep in my psyche. The truth was that I’d been living in denial for a very long time . . . and the saddest part about the whole thing was that I had personally chosen this half existence for myself.
I’d even taken that stupid forgetting charm to help me compartmentalize the “supernatural” part of myself away from my “normal” consciousness; that was how badly I did
not
want to get involved with the “family” business. Of course, back then I’d had no idea that my future self would be called into service to help save my dad and that there would be absolutely nothing I could do about it. That the forgetting charm would be so easily reversed and I’d be forced to deal with reality once more.
not
want to get involved with the “family” business. Of course, back then I’d had no idea that my future self would be called into service to help save my dad and that there would be absolutely nothing I could do about it. That the forgetting charm would be so easily reversed and I’d be forced to deal with reality once more.
If I’m really being honest with myself, then I should just be
completely
honest, right?
completely
honest, right?
Well, you see, when I was nineteen years old, I did something stupid, something that scared me and made me feel totally out of control, and because of this
one
stupid thing, I had barred myself from the supernatural world forever.
one
stupid thing, I had barred myself from the supernatural world forever.
At least at the time that was what I had hoped.
it was the Christmas break of my junior year at Sarah Lawrence. I’d had a crappy semester; a really hard-core professor in my creative writing class had hated me on sight and had made my life a living Hell. It was the first time I’d ever wanted to quit, leave school, and run away to Siberia.
The rub was I knew if I left school, my dad would use it as the open window with which to drag me kicking and screaming into the family biz. He had been determined from each of our births that my sisters and I would come and work for him. My older sister, Thalia, had acquiesced immediately. She loved the fact that our dad was Death, that the family was immortal, and that if she played her cards right, she could end up with more power than she knew what to do with. I, on the other hand, had always been certain that my destiny did
not
lie in the supernatural world; I was pretty sure I would end up writing for my favorite fashion magazine,
Vogue.
not
lie in the supernatural world; I was pretty sure I would end up writing for my favorite fashion magazine,
Vogue.
I’d gone to school itching to get away from the future I knew was waiting in the wings for me. I knew if I didn’t get my butt in gear and change a few minds, I was gonna get railroaded into a career that I did
not
want. It had taken me almost three years, but I had finally gotten up enough nerve to tell my dad exactly what I had planned for myself—and if he didn’t like it, well, screw him.
not
want. It had taken me almost three years, but I had finally gotten up enough nerve to tell my dad exactly what I had planned for myself—and if he didn’t like it, well, screw him.
In some ways, I liked to think my disinterest in what he did came directly from him. He had been very strict about my sisters and me never using magic in his house. He said that he had his reasons, but he never justified them to us. Thalia had gone underground, breaking Dad’s rules, but not flaunting it in his face. When she finally went away to school and was no longer under his thumb, she had very openly let the family see how adept she had become at magic. The interesting thing was how proud my dad seemed of her magical prowess.
Still, he made sure that Clio and I knew that the magic Thalia could do was no better than a parlor trick. He drummed it into our heads that magic was
not
necessary in his trade. That magic only caused more problems than it solved. I guess I believed him because I stayed away from the stuff like it was anathema.
not
necessary in his trade. That magic only caused more problems than it solved. I guess I believed him because I stayed away from the stuff like it was anathema.
Anyway, that Christmas break I had made the decision to confront my dad. I would tell him that he was out of luck, that I was gonna go to New York City the
minute
I graduated and there was absolutely
nothing
he could do to stop me. I had planned out the whole thing to a tee. I knew how I would get him alone, the exact words I would use . . . I had even imagined the five hundred different reactions he was going to have to my speech.
minute
I graduated and there was absolutely
nothing
he could do to stop me. I had planned out the whole thing to a tee. I knew how I would get him alone, the exact words I would use . . . I had even imagined the five hundred different reactions he was going to have to my speech.
The only thing I couldn’t have planned was that Thalia would come in and steal my thunder before I’d even had a chance to get my storm going.
I’d taken the train to Sea Verge the day before Christmas Eve, sporting a miserable cold I’d gotten from one of my room-mates, so I wasn’t in the best of shape when I arrived at its front door. In fact, I’d blown my nose so much on the trip that I looked like an alcoholic, all broken capillaries and red, chapped skin. I had brought only a small valise with me because I didn’t plan on staying too much past Christmas dinner. I had a New Year’s date with a couple of friends, and I wanted to get back to school as soon as possible.
Besides, I’d only promised my mother that I’d come for Christmas—nothing more, nothing less.
The woman had called me at least five times since Thanks-giving, pleading with me to spend the Christmas holidays with my family that year. I hadn’t wanted to go, but since I needed to talk to my dad anyway, I decided that the least I could do was spend some “quality” time with the family and make my mother happy at the same time—at least for a couple of days. I was pretty sure that once I told my dad the news, the crap was really gonna hit the fan.
I’d let myself in when I got there and had gone straight to my room. All I wanted to do was to lie down on my bed and sleep, undisturbed, for the next twenty-four hours. Of course, once Clio realized I was home, she was in my room almost jumping up and down on my bed with excitement. Apparently, Thalia had arrived right after me and she was about to drop a bombshell on the family . . . the
entire
family, which included me, apparently.
entire
family, which included me, apparently.
I didn’t have the heart to be a bitch and tell Clio to get out, that I didn’t give a damn
what
Thalia was gonna do, that she could turn herself into a toad and I could care less. So, instead of getting the sleep I desperately needed, I followed Clio right into the eye of the storm.
what
Thalia was gonna do, that she could turn herself into a toad and I could care less. So, instead of getting the sleep I desperately needed, I followed Clio right into the eye of the storm.
The Christmas tree looked incredible.
A huge blue spruce, it stood twenty feet high, shimmering like a snowflake before me as I followed Clio down the stairs and into the large, heavily decorated winter wonderland that was our living room. My mother was an amazing interior designer, and every year she would outdo herself when it came to the Christmas decorations.
She always went all out on holidays, but Christmas was different because it was her favorite. She would spend months preparing everything down to the last detail, her good taste conjuring up the most amazing holiday spectacles imaginable.
When I was little, she and I would consult about the decorations for the year, sketching out our plans on heavy cream drawing paper, giggling as we sipped hot chocolate or spiced cider from thick Christmas mugs. I had loved this time with my mother so much that I had actually begged God to never let me grow up. I knew down deep in my soul that once I got older, the magic would disappear and our decorating parties would cease to be . . . and sadly, I hadn’t been wrong. The minute I’d hit puberty, my mother and I had started arguing and we really hadn’t stopped since.
As Clio and I made our way through the huge, crepe paper snowflakes that were exquisitely wrapped around the base of the tree, I caught sight of my parents sitting on one of the black and cream toile couches beside the fireplace. Thalia was standing in front of them, dressed in a black Armani suit, her Jimmy Choo heels clicking in a staccato beat as she paced across the black-and-white marble tiled floor. Her long dark hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck in a tight chignon.
She looked up when she heard Clio and me come in, and the smile on her face was full of self-satisfaction.
I had never been very close to Thalia, even when we were kids. There was something cold about her that I found difficult to deal with. Clio and I had never talked about it directly, but I knew my younger sister felt exactly the same way about Thalia that I did.
“Oh good, the prodigal daughter has returned.” Her voice was like cracked ice. “Nice of you to join us, Calliope. I was just going to tell Father all about your little secret.”
“Excuse me?” I said, pulling a tissue from my pocket and sneezing into it.
I felt like crap; I looked like crap . . . I mean, I hadn’t had a shower in two days and the comfortable sweats that had become my sickbed uniform stuck to me like mummy wrappings. I really didn’t have the mental wherewithal to deal with my sister’s screwed-up psychobabble bullshit. I wished with all my heart that I’d just crawled into my old bed and never gotten up again, I felt that cruddy.
Thalia glared at me, her eyes locked on the tissue I held like a crumpled dove in my hand. I raised an eyebrow in her direction and she took a step back like she was scared I was gonna get germs on her or something.
“What secret?” Clio asked, looking up at me, then over at Thalia, a worried frown pinching her pixie face. Neither of my parents moved a muscle. My dad just stared at me, his face drawn and pale. Even his lion’s mane of unruly hair seemed more subdued than usual.
Thalia laughed and it was
not
a pretty sound. For the first time in my life, I realized that I’d never heard my sister laugh unless it was at the expense of someone else. It seemed like the only thing that ever drew any mirth from her revolved around meanness and self-aggrandizement. She looked at me, her head inclined curiously. She was waiting for me to respond to her charge, but there was no way José I was gonna take the bait. I just stood there, waiting for her to play whatever trump card she had up her Armani-clad sleeve.
not
a pretty sound. For the first time in my life, I realized that I’d never heard my sister laugh unless it was at the expense of someone else. It seemed like the only thing that ever drew any mirth from her revolved around meanness and self-aggrandizement. She looked at me, her head inclined curiously. She was waiting for me to respond to her charge, but there was no way José I was gonna take the bait. I just stood there, waiting for her to play whatever trump card she had up her Armani-clad sleeve.
It was a Mexican standoff with neither one of us willing to give an inch. Finally, Thalia shook her head, losing patience with my unwillingness to sink to her level. She had always taken the lead when we were children, and I was forcing her to do it again.
“Well, if Calliope won’t tell you, then I will,” she said, her excitement barely contained beneath a veneer of frost.
I gritted my teeth, bracing myself for what I knew was coming. Somehow Thalia had found out that I wasn’t joining the family business, that I planned to go to New York City and seek my fortune there instead.
At least, that was what I thought she was going to say.
“Calliope Reaper-Jones is a liar and a cheat. She plans on selling out the family the minute she graduates from school.”
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