Flame and Bident

The small bell above the door to Janine’s Petz and Friendz tinkled as the stranger entered the store and patiently adopted a place in the queue in front of her. Ange looked up and took three deep breaths. Come on, it’ll be fun Janine had said when she had floated the idea to what she called her star, but in reality only employee. Dog walking will get you out in the fresh air she had added with a smile. Ange had reluctantly agreed, she would have preferred staying behind the counter where she could read her book in between selling cat treats and dog rolls to the citizens of Carver City.

‘Come on, you can do this’ she said to herself a couple of times. Thoroughly steeled she smiled at her first customer. It was Lance, formerly captain of the school football team and now linebacker for the Carver Steers at the university. Ange knew he had wanted to be a vet and that he secretly played Dungeons and Dragons, a result of a confession after he had given Ange her first real kiss. He waved towards a dachshund on the floor to his right.

“Uh, Hi Ange. Mum says Sausage is getting a little fat and I don’t have the time anymore. Um, so can you, uh, take him for a walk. Five dollars was it?” he said.

“Of course she will. That’s her job. Isn’t that right Ange? And you can walk Mitsi as well,” said the woman on Lance’s right. Candice Summers, who was Lance’s girlfriend and who seemed to have it in for Ange all over one stupid kiss a whole year before Candice had declared that she and Lance were going out! 

Candice placed a small Chihuahua on the desk, Mitsi glared at Ange in the manner of small dogs and yipped.

“And Ange will give us both a discount. Because we’re friends. Is that right Ange?”said Candice.

Everyone was friends with Candice. Of course they were. You didn’t dare be otherwise. Her father was CEO of Summer Holdings, Holdings and pretty much had a say on everything in Carver. Maria Stiers had not invited Candice to her fourteenth birthday party and her mother had been fired within the week. They had been forced to move. Ange had liked Maria too.

“So it will be three dollars, that seems nice.” said Candice.

“But the sign says five. I have the note here.” said Lance pointing.

“That’s for everyone else, we’re all friends. So, if you have an extra dollar there Lance you could pay for us both.” said Candice as she gave Lance a peck on his cheek.

Lance for his part, blushed and dug around in his jeans pocket to find another note. He handed Ange both notes with a grimace. She noticed it was a two dollar note.

“Get the change.” said Candice, nudging Lance.

Lance grimaced again and held out his hand. Ange opened the till, placed the notes within and drew out a single dollar bill which she then gave to him.

“Thank you,” he said. He was about to fold it into his pocket when Candice made a small noise and held out her hand. Lance sighed and handed the note over.

“Pick up is at five-thirty.” Ange said as Candice and Lance turned and walked out with an accompanying tinkle from the bell. Ange watched them depart in a mix of suppressed rage and jealousy. She looked up at the next customer, a tall, rather heavyset man with a large black dog.

“What?” snapped Ange, a little out of sorts.

“Angela Betina Smith? I would like you to walk my dog.” said the man. His voice was clear and steady, it reminded Ange a little of Jackson, who had been her dad’s lieutenant from the Army. She looked at the dog. It was very large and black, some sort of mastiff was her first thought.

“The sign said you handled all breeds,” said the stranger as if anticipating her. 

“Uh, yes. That we do. Indeed. All breeds, yes. What’s his name?” said Ange.

“His name is Cerberus, Angela Betina Smith. It will be good for him to get out a bit and I do not have the time,” said the stranger.

“Like the Greek myth, I bet he paws at the gate too,” said Ange, trying to connect withher customer.

The stranger paused, as if somehow he had never made the connection between his dog’s name and its origin. Had he just picked it from a list off Google?

“Yes, he does do that. He also howls and whines to be let out.” said the stranger

“Enough to wake the dead?” joked Ange.

Again, there was a pause, “No, the dead do not sleep Angela Betina Smith.” he said.

Well, that was weird. “So, your name and a contact number?” asked Ange.

“Haden, Lord of The Unterwold,” at least, that’s what Ange heard. 

Ange’s eyes widened, exotic Europeans were not common to Carver. Actual Lords were totally unheard of outside late night rom-coms.

“Unterwold?” began Ange.

“The Unterwold,” corrected Haden.

“This is America you know,” said Ange, bristling. Euros and their weird titles. Who did they think they were?

“So it is. Yes, indeed. I am sorry to have caused you offence Angela Betina Smith. Please accept my apologies,” Haden said with a small bow.

As he straightened she met his eyes. They were a deep brown, almost black. Were those small specks of light in there? No, ridiculous. The pause lengthened as she stood there before she realised Haden was awaiting a reply.

“Uh, that’s okay. No problem.” she managed.

“No Angela Betina Smith, there is indeed a problem. I have offended you and as such, there must be redress. What do you request of me?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Is there an enemy you must battle? A perilous path on which you must tread? A court or academy you wish to enter? I could assist you in such a thing.” said Haden.

What an odd way of saying that. An enemy? A perilous path? A court? Hmm.

“There is that charity dinner at the Palms next week. Mum’s always wanted to go, but…” she found herself saying.

Haden bowed again, “So it shall be done. Yes, I know of it. I agree. I shall escort you and your parents to the Palms. I shall send my man round to collect you at seven. The bargain has been made.”

Wait! What? This was insane. “Look, you don’t need to do that,” protested Ange.

“The bargain has been made.” said Haden, “Now, about the dog. Five dollars is it?” he continued as if the other matter was settled. Ange nodded and Haden reached into his jacket and threw six silver dollars onto the counter. Mitsi turned and sniffed at them.

Ange gathered five of them up. How odd, well, the coins were legal tender. Maybe it was how Euros did things. She waved at the remaining coin. “It’s only five dollars,”

Haden looked at the remaining coin and stiffened, “I am not in the practice of handling odd amounts of currency. Please, consider it as a tip. Yes, since this is America and all. Also, I am sure you are an excellent walker of dogs.”

Ange picked up the coin, “Yes, I am. Um, pick up is at five thirty.”

Haden bowed again, “Then I shall return then. Good day to you, Angela Betina Smith,” he said before turning and walking out through the door. 

Ange watched him go. She then affixed all three leashes to a hook and slowly approached the shop door. She opened it cautiously, the little bell tinkled. She closed it and the bell tinkled again. She looked up at the bell and frowned. It must have rung when Haden left, because he would have had to have opened the door to do so. She shook her head and returned to her place behind the counter.

The dog walking was also, odd in Ange’s opinion. She knew the other two dogs. Sausage was lazy and preferred naps to walking and Mitsi was insane. Both however trotted calmly behind Cerberus at a brisk pace as if on a parade. The large black dog seemed to know the route too, which was impossible! This was the first day she had done this! Yet the large, um definitely a mastiff amiably took each turn as if reading her mind. Which of course was impossible. Still, they made their way around the park and back in good time for them to be picked up. All three owners, Lance, Candice and Haden were there.

“You’re late,” snapped Candice, “I have been…”

“She is early,” stated Haden evenly.

“No she is most certainly…”

“Early,” said Haden, extending a left arm with a watch on the wrist, “See?”

Candice looked at the watch and then to Haden’s face, she looked about to protest then stopped, “I guess she is then. Come Mitsi. Lance.” she said as she retrieved Mitsi’s leash and departed. Lance, with an embarrassed shrug, took Sausage’s leash and followed.

“Thank you,” said Ange.

“A pleasure,” said Haden and gave one of his little bows, “Come Cerberus. Remember, next Friday at seven.” he said as he detached the leash and also left. Ange watched him closely. He opened the door and the bell tinkled just like it should. She shook her head and got ready to go home.

Ange in due course also reached her, for want of a better word, home. The apartment had seemed so spacious, adventurous and independent when she had left the family home and, admittedly, moved only a few miles. Now, a year later, it was dingy, cramped and she seriously questioned the value of independence over regular, well cooked meals 

“How was your day dear?” drawled Kat, her roommate mockingly as Ange entered the small apartment and collapsed in a chair. Kat looked up from where she was sprawled on the couch. “That good, huh?”

Ange rubbed her forehead, “It was really  weird, there was this guy,”

“What sort of guy? The good looking, or the, you know, creepy kind?” said Kat.

“Odd, not creepy odd, just odd. He was foreign. From Europe, I think.”

“Euro? Some tall, dark mediterranean?” said Kat and she smiled as she read Ange’s response, “He was, wasn't he?” she said, focusing on Ange.

Ange nodded, “Yes, he was tall and yes, probably mediterranean.” she said

“And was he handsome?” prompted Kat.

Ange had to think about that. She tried to picture the odd European in her head. He was tall, he had those deep eyes, his clothing was neat and formal. She also recalled his scent. She hadn’t noticed at the time, but now it was as if he was right there, she inhaled deeply the memory of the aroma. It was of fresh honey and lavender.

“Hello, earth to Ange,” said Kat, breaking the spell.

“What? Oh, sorry, he’s, he’s,” said Ange

“Made quite the impression, I see. So, is he hot?”

Even prompted, Ange couldn’t quite recall anything but that exotic scent. Not from round here, it said. She inhaled deeply again.

“Okay, keep him to yourself,” said Kat with a smirk.

“It’s not that, I can’t recall his face. He had good clothing, well tailored. He said he was a Lord,”

“A Lord! So is this a rich, tall, dark, handsome European!”

Ange thought about that. She had heard a lot of titles were, while inherited and indeed important to the families, they did not necessarily come with any actual wealth. Still, Haden had looked well presented and had mentioned a servant of sorts.

“Possibly, possibly,” Ange hazarded, however before she could elaborate her phone rang. She saw that it was her mother. She hit the answer symbol. “Hi mum, what’s up?”

“Ange, who is Haden, Lord of The Unterwold?” came her mother’s voice.

“What! Mum, are you spying on me?” Ange replied.

“So you do know him then. Is he your boyfriend? Did you meet him at college?”

“Uh, not exactly. Mum, what’s going on?”

“We just had a courier knock on the door. Gareth, Josie’s boy. Anyway the package has three invites to the big ball at the Palms next Friday. Courtesy of a Mr Haden, Lord of Forests or something. I must say it’s very posh.”

“That was quick. I only met him today.”

“Today! You must have made some impression, Ange! He’s invited us to the Ball!”

“Yeah mum, I don’t know. We just…”

“Ange please, I’ld love to go, really, it would mean so much to me,”

“Mum! It’s just so sudden, and a bit weird,”

“Who cares? It’s the Big Ball! And we’ve got the tickets already. If he’s a creep Ange you can just stick by us,”

Ange was reminded of all the times she had cajoled and demanded that her parents take her to this or that thing, what had seemed at the time an event of utmost importance. Now, it was the other way round. What a strange sensation.

“No mum, he wasn’t creepy or anything,”

“Then what’s the problem? We can go, have a great time and meet this new boyfriend of yours!”

Ange remembered that her parents had often relented in the end to her demands and her mum did have a point. The Ball was very public. 

“Okay mum, okay. We’re going to the Ball.” she said.

All she got in reply was a squeal of delight, much like a feedback loop, “Thanks Ange, this is marvelous. Oh, I’ve got nothing to wear. We need to go shopping this weekend. You come over and we can go together on Saturday. Bring that Kat girl too, she looks like she needs feeding up.”

“Brillant, it’s settled. See you on Saturday then.” said her mother, who then hung up.

Kat looked up again, “So, how are the parentals?”

Ange nodded, “Parental. We’re seeing my mum on Saturday,”

“We?”

“We. Think of it as free food.”

“Yeah, okay then.”

Hades sighed, looked about and took four steps along a path undreamt of in any mortal philosophy. He arrived back in the Halls of the Dead. The halls were dark and gloomy, constructed of what appeared to be a grayish stone threaded with veins of obsidian. The halls were lit with torches that burned fitfully casting long shadows everywhere. At the end of the main hall was a large double throne, all in basalt. At the base of the throne was a massive desk covered in parchment with a more utilitarian chair. The desk was lit by the only brightly burning torch in the halls. Everywhere milled the dead. The shades drifted seemingly aimlessly, sometimes alone, sometimes gathering in clumps, swirling about listlessly as if propelled by a form of undead Brownian motion. Hades paid it no mind, gave Cerberus a pat on the left head and sighed again. The right head gave a small bark so he patted that one too.

“Howdy boss. How was the land of the living?” said Mort from behind him as he took his Lord’s jacket.

Hades had not heard the psychopomp approach. Then again, he never had. Mort was just always there. “Full of life, as always,” he said.

“Good, good. Dog get a good workout? Some time in the sun?”

“That he did,”

“And the beautiful mortal you..” began Mort but got no further as Hades spun and grabbed Mort by his neck vertebrae, lifting him into the air. 

Eye sockets met the pools of infinite darkness that were Hade’s eyes “Were you spying on me?” he growled.

Insomuch as a skeleton could gulp Mort did so, “No boss, not spying on you. Not as such. More like, more like observing. Keeping an eye on you. Being a good shieldman, that’s all.”

“You admit it!” roared Hades.

“Boss, I am ever your loyal servant. I’ve got your best interests at heart.”

“You have no heart.”

“Figure of speech, figure of speech. Besides, I can claim higher orders.”

“Higher orders? I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld!”

Mort was a skeleton and therefore did not possess eyes. Nonetheless he managed to indicate with his sockets a reclining chair in one corner of the hall. While fine, it was unoccupied, unlike the rest of the furniture in the halls. Upon it, as if laid out for wear was a fine dress, such as would befit a noblewoman, even, perhaps, a Queen.

“Right, higher orders indeed,” said Hades and he put the psychopomp down.

“So, how was the mortal, whatshername?”

“Angela Betina Smith,” said Hades with a sigh. “No, you are mistaken. She is a mortal and a Christian. It’s simply not possible. Also she tricked me into a favour as mortals are wont to do,” said Hades.

“Oh, what sort of favour? Cunning eh, cunning is good. And Christian, no problem there. Just call up JC and we can sort this all out.”

Hades glared at his minion. It was a glare that could cow demons and gods alike. Mort merely shrugged, his boss had degrees of glare which he had graded along the lines of the alphabet. This was only a gamma glare and Mort never really worried until the boss reached omicron.

“We are not involving anyone else,” Hades said.

“Okay Boss, keep it on the downlow. So, what’s it going to be? Big white bull? Swan? Or Satyr, very popular satyrs.”

Instantly Mort was thrown to the ground and pinned, “I am not my brother!”

“Sorry boss, just thought we go with what we know, that’s all,”

“Besides, it’s not like that. This is a simple case of mortal entrapment, which of course we shall honour.” said Hades and got up, releasing Mort. “We shall grant the request and then we shall be done. Is that clear?”

Mort nodded, “Crystal clear Boss.”

“Good. Well, time to get back to work,” said Hades and he departed in the direction of his great desk. 

Mort watched him go. He looked at Cerberus. The middle head whined, the right yipped.

“Gotcha. Right, all settled is what we’re going with? And I’m the Archangel Gabriel. Hmm,” said Mort and then he looked over to check that Hades was busy, moved into an alcove and made a complicated, but perhaps not unfamiliar gesture with his hands. After a moment he spoke, his voice a whisper, “Hey Gabs, how's it going? Good, good. Look, we gotta talk.”

The next day saw two new customers in addition to Lance, Candice and Haden. There was old Mrs O’brien with her Shih-Tzu, Colleen and Angus with the family whippet, Devo. She took Mrs O'Brien's money and was again paid just six dollars by Lance for him and Candice. Angus slapped a poster down along with his money. Ange read it. 

“Odyssey LARP, early April? Are you going to be doing the journeys of Odysseus?" said Ange.

Angus grimaced, "Not exactly, more Greek mythology themed. The Council picked Odyssey for, you know name recognition. Will you come, we need crew."

"I don't know," said Ange.

"Oh, you'd be so good. You told me all that stuff from Wizard's was rubbish and you were right, Turned my campaign right around." said Angus, pleadingly.

"I'll see what I can do," said Ange, agreeing to end the conversation. She didn't want a repeat of last time.

"Great!" Angus turned to the others, "Anyone else interested?" 

Lance started, "Well," he began but was interrupted.

"We are not interested in your stupid games. Really Angus, when are you ever going to grow up? Get a life, loser." said Candice, who then departed with Lance following.

Angus picked up the flyer, "Yeah, maybe she's right. I am a loser."

"No you're not! Look Angus, I'll play. You can cast me as Persephone. I've still got my old garb at my parents. I'm visiting this weekend so I can fix it up." said Ange, changing her mind.

Mrs O'Brien wandered over and looked at the poster. "What's a Larp dear."

Angus attempted to explain, with Ange's help the concept of Live Action Role Play to the octogenarian.

"So it's a mix between variety theatre and fancy dress?" said Mrs O'Brien.

"Yes, something like that," said Ange.

"So I could be Atropos then? I could make my own kit and I have a lovely set of shears, they were my gran's." said Mrs O'Brien.

"That would be great!" said Angus.

"And my Rach and her Janet could be Lachesis and Clotho. You'd have the whole set then." said Mrs O'Brien.

"Um, would they agree?" said Angus.

"If they know what's good for them," cackled the grandmother.

Emboldened, Angus looked at Haden who seemed to be talking on his phone. Ange caught, "Oh, well. If you insist." before he looked up at Angus, "Yes, I will act in your drama,"

Angus looked up at the large man, "You will? You will!" he said and Haden nodded. "Oh great. Wow, you could be Zeus."

It seemed to Ange that a sudden gust of wind had swept into the shop as she shivered.

"Do I look like someone who would be unfaithful? Are you calling me a rapist?" thundered Haden as he loomed over Angus.

"No, no. Course not. I can see, yes, it's a bit problematic there. Poseidon then, no?" This last was in response to another glare. "Well, how about Hades?" said Angus.

Haden, for his part, looked at a point besides Angus before nodding. "That, would be, suitable," he said before advancing to the counter. He threw down six more silver dollars and regarded Ange sternly. "So, you are also to be my Dread Persephone?"

Ange stared straight back, "Yes, you don't think I can do that?" she shot at him.

At that, Haden deflated, he seemed to shrink and he shook his head, "No, no one can," he said sadly. "I will be back at five thirty, for the dog."

Shoulders slumped, Haden turned and shuffled out through the door.

"What did you say Ange? You took the wind right out of his sails. He's probably a no show," said Angus.

"I didn't say anything. Not really, I think," said Ange. She replayed the odd conversation in her head, trying to work out what had happened.

"Nothing you said Ange. I know that look. He's a widower. It just hits you at times. Can be anything really. So, it's not your fault girl. Looks like he really loved her, by the look of it," said Mrs O'Brien.

"How can you tell?" said Ange.

"Because I get that way myself, about my Thomas. Could have been anything, a bell ringing, the tilt of your head, maybe you're wearing a similar perfume. It's no one's fault and the feeling soon passes." said Mrs O'Brien.

The old woman then began talking with Angus about being one of the Fates, but Ange ignored them as she gathered up the leashes. She stared intently at the bell. Haden had again walked through the door, but this time she could swear that he had not opened it first 

Hades slouched along the street ignoring the hustle and bustle of mortals about him. Besides him, unseen by normal eyes skipped Thalia. She was humming a tune that would, in the next few weeks go viral and capture the minds of mortals across the world. Hades turned his head towards her. “What are you doing here?” he growled.

Thalia paused in humming and smiled, “I will have you know that I, am doing my job? Inspiring artists towards comedy, oh gloomy one.”

Hades looked about the small city of Carver. “Here? Shouldn’t you be in that place to the west of here? The Holy Wood?”

Thalia stopped and placed a hand on her chest, “I will remind you oh master of sulks, that I, Thalia am a muse. I inspire artists, not slaves chained in a sausage factory,”

“And you happen to be here at the same time as myself?” said Hades. 

“I do not choose when and where inspiration strikes. I am but a humble vessel pouring out where it is needed. I must say I am surprised to see you up and about.”

“It is for the dog.”

“Oh, for the dog is it? Nothing to do with that mortal?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Thalia pouted, “Don't be ridiculous? Me? I am the Mistress of Ridiculousness. Ridiculous is what I do.”

“She is the woman who walks the dog. That, that is all,” said Hades firmly.

“And that you are taking to a ball,”

“She tricked me into that,”

“Of course, of course. Also, you will play, hmm, yourself opposite her as Dread Persephone,”

“I will not,”

“Hades, Lord of the Underworld!” said Thalia. Hades paused, the goddess never used his actual name. Thalia continued, “You said you would do so. So, you will do that thing. You keep your word. To do so otherwise causes you immense pain.” Thalia sidled round and bent down so she could look Hades in the eyes. “So, keep your promises. all your promises.”

Hades mumbled, “I will think about it,” he said before he stepped back to the Underworld.

Thalia shook her head and sighed, “Lord of Pig-headed fools,” she said before making a complicated gesture, “Mort? Yes, of course I’m good. Mission successful. No, of course he doesn’t suspect anything,” she said before resuming skipping along and humming the soon to be famous tune.

The dog walking again went like clockwork. Too much like clockwork. The dogs all formed up behind Cerberus and briskly followed him. None of them ran off to chase a squirrel. None barked at the other people in the park. They did not annoy other dogs. They just walked almost as if in formation, a kind of canine parade of honour. Ange followed them, wondering if she even needed to hold the leashes. It was uncanny. Because of the choreography, she half expected a camera crew to leap out and shout surprise!

In due course she returned to the shop with her charges and returned them to their owners. Last of whom was the enigmatic Haden.

“I’m sorry I brought back some painful memories earlier today,” Ange said as she handed him the leash.

“It was not your fault, so there was no offence given,” replied Haden, as formal as ever.

Ange forced a smile, “Even so, it sounds like she meant the world to you.”

Haden said nothing, he just nodded. 

Ange sniffed in sympathy, “Look, you don’t have to do the LARP thing, if it makes you uncomfortable, that is.” 

Haden looked up, “No, I will play my part. I said I would and I Haden, Lord of The Unterwold keep my word.” he said stiffly.

Ange tried another smile, “Well, I am sure Angus will be thrilled. I’m sure you will be a great Hades,”

Haden, for once smiled, it was a total transformation, like he had become another person entirely, “Oh, I assure you Angela Betina Smith, I can do that.”

Kat was lying on her bed with her feet and legs up against the wall reading her device. She turned her head as Ange walked in. “So did the mystery man want his dog walked again?”

“Yeah, he did. He also signed up for the new LARP, Odyssey.” said Ange, she paused as the events caught up with her, “So did I,”

Kat rotated and sat up and put the device down, “You sure about that Ange? After what happened last time?”

Ange felt her face grow hot as the memories came. The sheer embarrassment, the abject humiliation and shame. She felt her stomach begin to churn as the entire disaster replayed itself in her head. “Uh, sure. Look, Tim, Tim was a mistake”

Kat’s eyes widened, “A mistake? Ange, he was married.”

“I didn’t know! I swear! Okay!” screamed Ange as it all came out, she started to shake and then began crying in great heaving sobs. “He didn’t say! He should have said that!”

Kat got up and walked over to hug Ange. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Ange continued to cry, “I should have seen it though. The mark on his finger, the stickers on the back of his car, hell, I should have checked his bloody status, asked his friends,”

Kat gave her a squeeze, “And they should have told you,”

“But they didn’t! It was all a great big joke to them. Watching me follow Tim about like some puppy, me throwing myself into him. Sitting on his lap in the tavern. I didn’t want to know, I just didn’t care. I was such a…” 

Faster than Ange could have thought possible Kat’s hand was at her mouth, cutting off the damning epitaph. “No. Don’t say it! You are not that! Never say that! So, you saw someone you fancied. So, you got a little horny. So, you ignored a few warning signs,”

“I ignored all the warning signs Kat,”

Kat looked directly into Ange’s tear streaked face, “And? We’ve all been there. What about that time with you, me and Jennifer. In the pool?”

“Kat, we were ten,” Ange pointed out.

“That doesn’t matter, we learned and we moved on. Well, you and Jen did. Point is we loved, we learned and hopefully won’t be so silly next time. Right? That which does not kill us…” said Kat.

“...makes us stronger. You’re right. Thank you.” 

“Anytime. So, about Baron von Eurotrash? He’s a LARPer? Wow. Small world.”

“It’s very big over there, so not that surprising really. Um, Kat, Angus wants me to do Persephone as my crew main.” said Ange.

Kat brightened, “That’s great! We’re going over to your folks tomorrow. We get the garb out, hmm,” she said as she took a few steps backwards and looked Ange up and down. “Yeah, we do the red gown, patch it up, lower the bust line, though not too much, raise the hem a bit, add some extras and we’ll have a first class Queen of the Dead. Or maybe do the whole goth thing?”

Ange blinked, “Me? In all black? I don’t think so.” she said.

Kat nodded, “Oh, I do think so. Something long, off the shoulder with a nice tight corset, a bit of, a lot of white powder, dye the hair and you’ll be literally slaying them.”

“Um, I don’t know Kat,”

“Relax, trust me. A corset is better than a chastity belt. You get the hots for anyone and it’s a good half hour to be in a position to do anything.” said Kat.

Ange let Kat plan out the costume design and completely forgot the small detail of who she would be playing off against.

The next day saw Kat and Ange traveling by bus to her parent’s house. Her mother opened the door as they knocked and enveloped Ange in a massive hug. 

“Ange, how are you doing?” she said.

“I’m fine mom,” Ange answered.

Her mother then put her down and then picked up Kat in a similar hug, “Kat, welcome!”

“Hi, Mrs S.” said Kat.

Her mother put Kat down and looked at her, “You two are eating okay?”, which had been a standard question to Kat with variants since she had been six.

“We're eating just fine mum,” said Ange.

“Well, we’ve got no time to wait. Those dresses won’t buy themselves,” said her mother and began ushering both Ange and Kat towards the car.

“Mum!” protested Ange.

“Come on then, let's get going, and you can tell me all about this new exotic boyfriend of yours.”

Ange decided getting into the car was the path of least resistance.

Once in the car and on their way her mother continued the conversation, “Kat, have you met this Haden yet?”

Kat shook her head, “Sorry Mrs S, Ange has been quite secretive about this. No-one’s met him. Well, Angus has,” said Kat remembering a small detail.

“Angus. The chubby boy, he was the Dungeon Monster in that game?”

“Dungeon Master,” corrected Ange.

“Whatever, so Ange, what is he like?”

“Mum, he’s not my boyfriend. I’ve only seen him twice. I’m walking his dog. That’s all.”

“That’s all? Then why did he send the tickets? In my experience not boyfriends don’t do that,”

Ange sighed, it was the same thing as every other time she showed the slightest interest in anyone, “Haden is, he’s just overly formal. He thought he had offended me and offered the tickets as an apology. That’s all.”

“That’s all? It sounds incredibly romantic to me. Is he good looking?” 

“He’s, um, Haden is, that is,” struggled Ange as she tried to recall what Haden looked like.

“She can’t remember what he looks like, Mrs S. Sure sign that he’s super hot.” supplied Kat.

“Wow! So he’s a hottie then?”

Since Kat had failed to burst into flames she continued, “Absolutely. Certified lady killer this one.”

“And he’s not, you know, involved with anyone else?”

“He’s a widower mum, and rather old fashioned. He was quite cross when Angus suggested he could be Zeus,”

“Oh, so he looks like, like Sean Bean. In that movie I took you girls to. Why wouldn’t he want to do that,”

“Zeus is a bit problematic, Mrs S. All that cheating?” said Kat.

Her mother was quiet for a while as she maneuvered the car through the Carver City Mall car park. “So, what you’re telling me is that he’s foreign, looks like a movie star, is very principled and is obviously a catch because he was married before. Did I miss anything.”

Ange sighed, “And a lord mum,”

“Oh yes, and a lord,”

Ange was then treated to a lengthy tour of the local Mall’s clothing stores. Her mother was clearly enjoying herself trying on various frocks and dresses, both on herself and Ange. Kat was also having a good time providing what her mother referred to as ‘witty commentary’. Ange herself should have enjoyed the bonding session with her mother and best friend but was distracted.

Haden was just so, strange. It was the only word that fitted. He was an enigma wrapped in a mystery over a conundrum. He was too formal, too proper and had that strange code of honour. How had he got hold of the tickets? Ange was not an expert in such things but she was pretty sure Gala tickets were not lying around unsold a week before the event. Then there was the whole widower thing. How did that work? How could she compete with a dead woman? Someone who was perfectly preserved in memory without fault or blemish.

No! She was not competing with Haden’s dead wife because she was not interested! Despite what everyone around her thought Haden was just someone she saw about a dog. A rather odd dog, but still, just a dog.

“Angela, welcome! What can we fit for you today.” said a woman. She was in another shop and the name tag read ‘Harmony’s’ then the standard ‘Hello, my name is Cleo’, or at least that’s what Ange saw.

“Uh, hi. How do you know my name?” said Ange. 

“Facial recognition software darling. Little camera outside, sees your face, looks it up and then sends it to my device here, along with your measurements so we can get the right dress for you. Very modern.” said Cleo.

"Modern, you say? This shop seems very new." said her mother.

“Oh, that we are Margaret, that we are. Very new, very exclusive,” said Cleo.

“Exclusive, um, maybe we’re in the wrong shop,” hazarded her mother.

“Oh no, no. You just have a look around. See, here’s Tanya.” said Cleo.

“Hello Margaret, this way please, we have just the thing for you.” said a new assistant with a name badge declaring that her name was Tanya. It had to be.

“Catherine! Stop. I know just the thing for you. Red, Eveningwear, Silky, slinky, sexy,” said another attendant, seemingly materialising as if by a matter transporter from a television show. Her name tag read Eulalie. She led Kat away in another direction.

“Now where were we?” said Cleo as her mother was led off. “Something in gold.” she said as she walked around Ange, making small notes on her device as she did so, “Yes, definitely gold. This way then,” she added and walked down an aisle. 

Ange followed Cleo, a little confused. They had passed Beckham Books, the Ollies, but not Jezebel’s Beauty. They had instead come in here, hadn’t they? But the salon shared a wall with the variety store. Ange was sure of that. She looked about to get her bearings. She could see the mall thoroughfare with people going past, she could see her mother and yes, over there was Kat.

“All okay Angela? Now just a quick ur-left turn down this aisle,” said Cleo and then, they were in front of a dress rack. Cleo reached out and selected a mass of golden, shimmering fabric. She unfolded it to reveal a short dress that corruscaded as it caught the light. 

It occurred to Ange that the dress might cost more than what both her parents earned in a year. However before any meaningful protest she was being herded gently yet firmly towards the changing room. One quick, “You just try that on,” and Ange was in a changing room looking at a reflection of herself. She held the dress up in front of her and looked at the reflection. She smiled. It couldn’t hurt to just try it on.

Ten minutes later she was adjusting the last strap and examined herself in the mirror. Ange gasped, it was like looking at, at, well someone else really. Someone who could dress like this for a start. She opened the changing room door and peeked out.

“There you are! All done? Good. Let’s get a look at you.” chirped Cleo. She again did a small orbit of Ange and made a few notes on her device. “Yes, very good. Do you find it suitable?”

Ange shrugged, “It’s very nice, but I cannot possibly afford it,” she protested.

Cleo looked at her, “Why not? This is a dress shop.You want to buy a dress, and we want to sell you one. Where is the problem?”

Ange stared back, “Um, hello, the price? This must cost a fortune?”

Cleo tilted her head to the right, “It must cost a fortune? No, no, no. That’s not right at all.” she said and then reached over to a desk and rang a small bell.

“What are you doing?” asked Ange.

“Complaining to the manager,” came the curt reply.

Before Ange could protest there was a thundering sound as a large, heavyset woman bore rapidly down on them. She stopped just slightly in Ange’s personal space and looked imperiously down at her, “Hwhat, happears to be the problem?” she demanded.

Cleo piped up, “The customer refuses to buy the dress,”

The woman seemed to grow in height about a foot and loomed over Ange, “You refuse? That dress is hand made. Custom designed. Bespoke. I will not allow it.”

“But,” attempted Ange.

“Silence!” roared the woman. She then rounded on Cleo, “Am I to understand that we have customers that won't buy anything!”

“Well, that is to say,” stammered Cleo.

“Bring them all here!” roared the matron.

Soon, Kat and Eulalie appeared followed by Tanya and her mother. Her mother was in a bright blue dress that gave the impression she was tall, distinguished and elegant. Kat, on the other hand.

"Wow." was all Ange could say. Her friend looked fabulous. The red cocktail dress was more applied than worn and highlighted her figure and legs. She had never thought of Kat as attractive, she had always been just Kat. It occurred to Ange that her friend was gorgeous.

Kat gave a twirl, showing off, "You like it? So do I.  But Ange, you're absolutely radiant!"

Ange smiled, "It is very nice,"

The manager smiled, "So, you'll be buying them then?" she said.

This was followed by all three women pointing out that the outfits, while indeed very beautiful, were way outside their price range.

"Are you certain? I was given to understand these are intended to be worn to the local gala event? Yes? So," here she produced what looked like an antique calculator and began stabbing at the buttons. "Let's see, two fashion models at several hours, travel expenses, freight and packaging, allowing for the speed of light, insurance, danger pay, yes, what is it?"

"Did you say speed of light?" said Ange.

"Of course I did. What of it?"

"What's that got to do with this?"

"Everything!" boomed the manager. "At nine hundred and eighty three million, five hundred and seventy one thousand and fifty six feet per second it cannot possibly be ignored."

"We often just use nine hundred and eighty three point six million fps," said Cleo in an aside. The manager still noticed.

"Wash your mouth out with soap! Well, I never! This is like that business with pi to only a hundred places again." The woman then turned to Ange, "I'm sure a sensible girl such as yourself never uses less than a thousand. Myself, I never use less than ten thousand, but have learned to make allowances for others. Anyways, get changed back and we'll sort this all out,"

Ange, Kat and her mother were then ushered by the attendants back to their respective changing rooms. Soon they were back in their regular clothes. The attendants then took the garnets, folded them neatly and led everyone back to the counter where the manager was waiting for them.

"Excellent. Right, here are your bags and," with a flourish she opened an ancient till and withdrew a five dollar bill, "here is the balance.'' She then handed the note to Ange's mother.

Her mother looked at the note in disbelief. "I'm sure there's been some sort of mistake,"

The manager picked up the calculator and turned it round so they could see the display. It read -5.00.

"But…"

"No refunds. Now, best be off. Go now, I have a business to run."

Then they were in the Mall thoroughfare, bags in hand, her mother still holding the note. She looked at it.

"Right. Um. Now. Perhaps we should go home and have lunch, eh?" her mother said.

It was all Ange and Kat could do to nod. A little unsure of what had just transpired they wandered in the direction of the car park.

Inside the shop, in actuality a small, localized tear in the fabric of spacetime the four former goddesses looked at one another and smiled.

"Excellent work, another obstacle neatly obliterated," observed Thalia. She then turned to her sister, "Speed of light? Really Urania?"

Urania sniffed, "It is important."

"For charting the courses of planets, not dressmaking," pointed out Clio.

"I had to think of something to distract them, Especially that Angela. She's clever, though I like clever," said Urania.

"Yes, let's not have a repeat of the Stuart debacle," said Euterpe.

The others nodded,

"So, ice cream?" suggested Thalia.

Again, there was agreement.

Her father was at home when they returned. He limped over and gave Ange a hug.  “Welcome back stranger,” he said and then patted Kat on the head, “You too, trouble,”

“Hi dad,”

“Hello Mr S.”

Her father then kissed her mother on the cheek, “Shopping mission successful?” he said.

Her mother paused, looked at the bag she was holding, “Um, I’m not sure, we got some new outfits, but,”

“Mission successful then,” said her father and gave her mother a hug.

“Arthur, they paid us for the dresses,” said her mother.

“That sounds, rather odd,” 

“I know. They seemed to think we were models or something,” said her mother.

“I can see that, you are my supermodel,” said her father as he kissed her mother again.

“Dad!”

“What? Am I embarrassing you darling with the overtly flouting of my evil hetero ways?” her father said with a wink.

“Dad!”

“Okay, okay. For decency’s sake I’ll pretend that I’m what’s the word for it? Ass?”

“It’s Ace, Mr S,” supplied Kat

“Ace? A, C, E?” said her father slowly, Kat nodded. “That doesn’t make sense, still, guess it doesn’t have to,” he turned to her mother again. “Sorry dear, no more PDAs, I’m Ace you know,”

“You better not be that later,” warned her mother.

“Oh, I think I’m allowed to change.” he looked over to Ange and Kat, Kat nodded while Ange covered her eyes, her father seemed to delight in embarrassing her! “Anyways, I’ll have lunch all organised in a moment. Sit down and we can get to it.”

Lunch was bacon and maple syrup over hotcakes. As they were being passed round her mother resumed the interrogation. “You still haven’t told us much about this Haden dear.” she said.

“He invited us to the Ball because he’s a European noble with odd notions of honour, that’s all.” said Ange, explaining again.

“European eh? What part is he from?” asked her father.

“I think, I think he’s German,” said Ange.

Her father paused until he swallowed, “German eh? Knew some, engineers. Good people Germans, solid, bit literal and don’t let them near the beer, they’ll drink the lot.”

Ange had seen recordings of Germans celebrating in tents with massive glasses of beer, all red faced, shouting and smiling. She tried to picture Haden, in one of those funny jackets and tights swilling beer. A busty barmaid leaning over as she filled up his glass and them sharing a joke. How dare she! Wait. She was getting jealous over her own imagination! She shook her head.

“You alright, dear?” said her mother, “You’ve gone all red. Thinking about him?”

“I’m not!” protested Ange.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Why I couldn’t stop thinking about Arthur here when we first met,” said her mother.

Her father smiled, “Only to be expected. Handsome chap in uniform. Does it all the time,” he said.

“All the time?” said her mother.

“Well, only once, truth be told,” replied her father.

Her parents looked at one another, their faces indicating they were tuning out everything else. They were like this all the time!

“Oh dear, another Mr and Mrs S moment. Come on Ange, let’s find your old garb,” said Kat.

They both left the table and after a brief search in the garage they found the big wooden chest. It had been made by her grandfather. Ange had never known him though, he had died when she was still a baby. She kept her garb in it. Inside, the various items of clothing were stuffed randomly and in a tangle. They set to rooting through it for various items.

“Here it is!” said Kat, drawing out. a red gown neatly sewn together  with yellow thread. It had a green trim round the edges and still had the green ribbon round the left sleeve, the right having run off. “Come on, let's see if it still fits.”

Ange took the dress and stood up, she removed her top and then shrugged the garment on. She worked on the sleeve while Kat tied up the back. After a bit of pulling and squeezing, she was in.

“It’s a bit tight,” observed Ange. While not uncomfortable, she could definitely feel it in places.

“Must be all that good food we eat at home. Maybe we should get Mrs S to see you in this. Should ease her concerns that we’re not fading away.” said Kat.

“You calling me fat?”

“Filling out, not in a bad way either,” said Kat emphasising the point with a slap on her butt.

The memory came unbidden of the last time someone had done that. It had been Tim, just before ushering her into the cabin. She had been laughing, kissing him and then she had turned round so he could help her out of the same dress. It had been half off when, when. She felt sick, her stomach heaved as she once again heard the door open, saw Megan standing there, her outraged voice.

“Ange! You okay?” 

“Um, I’m fine. Could you get me a glass of water please?”

“Sure.”

As Kat ran off, Ange sat down and buried her face in her hands. Her insides continued to twist into knots. What was she doing? She would have to face everyone again. She couldn’t do that. It had been the worst night of her life. Why on earth would she repeat that?

“Hey, here you go,” said Kat, handing Ange a glass of water. She took it and sipped.

“Thanks. Kat, why am I doing this?” said Ange.

Kat sat down beside her, “Because you love doing it? You dig this whole Roleplay thing.”

“I, I just don’t know.”

“Come on. We’ve got the dress out. What if I came with you? Be your wingman, woman.”

Ange looked at her friend, “You said you didn’t like it. That it was too much waiting in fields and getting rained on.”

“Yeah, well I’m willing to give it another go. Does your character have an offsider?”

“Persephone? I, don’t know,”

Kat fished out her phone, “Let’s ask the repository of all human knowledge then,” she said while making a few taps and searches. “Hmm, how about this Nyx person? Chthonic? Like that monster Cthulhu?”

Ange shook her head, “Means underground. I think Lovecraft used the word as the base for his monster,”

“Ohh,” she continued reading, “Nyx was the goddess of night and darkness. So, a Goth then?”

Ange nodded, “I’m sure she could be, no ones going to come down on us for not being a hundred percent accurate anyways,”

“Cool, I’ll be her then. That’s all settled, we can go and I’ll have your back,”

Ange hugged her friend, “Thanks Kat,”

“Anytime.”

Emboldened by such support Ange decided new supplies were in order. That Sunday, she and Kat borrowed her mother’s car and headed to Carl’s Emporium, the local craft shop. Browsing amongst the stalls searching for various accessories reminded Ange of why she enjoyed LARPing. It wasn’t just the game itself, but all the costuming as well. After a few not so prudent purchases to be honest they were returning to the car with arms full of fabric, buttons, sequins and ribbon.

“You sure we got enough?” said Kat, staggering a bit.

Ange was about to answer when a call rang out,

“What are you two doing?” came Candice’s voice followed by some laughter.  She was in an open topped convertible with Marianne and Courtney. 

Courtney dipped her sunglasses to look at them, “They’re shopping at the poor shop,” she said again to some laughter from the others.

“How sad to see people in such reduced circumstances,” said Candice.

“This is for the LARP in April,” shot back Kat.

“Elf games?” said Courtney, the others nodded, “Right, elf games.”

“Oh, dress up. When did we last do that? Oh yes, we were eight!” said Marianne, again with laughter.

“And whose husband are you going to steal this time, Ange?” said Candice.

“Did she really?” said Courtney, looking at Ange.

“Yes, she’s a right little slut, that one. Lock up your boyfriends and husbands, Ange is on the prowl!” yelled Candice. Then she revved the engine and the convertible shot away leaving derisive laughter in its wake.

Ange took several deep breaths and then stumbled to the hatch. She fumbled with the keys, dropped them and then lost hold of her packages as she tried to retrieve the keys. Everything crashed to the ground, a plastic container of pins bursting open and scattering the contents everywhere. It was too much, Ange began sniffing as she knelt and began picking up the errant accessories.

“It was one time. Just one stupid mistake. One stupid, fucking mistake!” she said in between drawing in lungfuls of air. That the pins did not cooperate, bouncing this way and that on the hot tarmac just added to the torment.

“Hey, ignore them. They just like being mean,” said Kat as she knelt down beside her.

“I didn’t even get to bang him, if I had it would have been at least bloody worth it,” said Ange.

“Nah, it wouldn’t have been. Trust me.” said Kat. Ange looked up at her, “What? Debs, my big sister went out with him for a bit. Said he was rubbish in bed.”

“You never told me that,” said Ange.

“Did too, just after it all happened. And last year. You keep forgetting,”

“Oh,” Ange fixed her friend with a look, “Are you just saying this to make me feel better,”

“Would I lie to you?”

“How about when you said you knew Taylor Swift?”

“I was eleven,”

“Or when you said you had completed the homework assignment,”

“You still remember that! Might I remind you, oh paragon of truthfulness, how you informed me that you had all the My Little Ponies.”

“Really, we were four, Kat.”

“So, what this means is that we’ve been doing this all our lives,”

Ange smiled, “Guess we have,”

“So let’s get this stuff home,”

“Yeah,”

They continued picking up everything.

Monday was the day Ange did the banking. She gathered up all the money minus the float from the till, put it in a bag and walked three doors down to the bank. After a brief wait in the queue, she handed the bag over to Zack, the teller. Zack then ran the money through the counting machine, noted the results and handed Ange a piece of paper with the results for her to sign off. At least, that’s what had happened every previous Monday. 

Today the machine made a crunching sound, like it was grinding a stone, then it stopped.

“Sorry Ange, small problem here,” said Zack who disappeared briefly before returning with a screwdriver. He worked on the machine and withdrew a bent piece of metal. It was a strangely shaped coin, not a regular round shape. Zack then fished out another eleven coins, similarly irregular, not the perfect circles of normal currency.

“What are they?” said Ange.

“Don't know. They were in your bag. What’s this writing on them? Don’t recognise it.” said Zack.He pushed one over to her.

Ange picked up the odd coin. The writing was angular and sharp, in a language that she didn’t recognise.

“They look foreign,” she said and then mentally kicked herself. What a dumb thing to say!

Zack frowned and looked at the disassembled machine, “That shouldn’t matter. This thing is programmed for any currency, from anywhere.”

“So where are they from?” asked Ange.

“Dunno,” said Zack and he passed the other offending coins back. Look, I’ll get this sorted and email you the receipt.” he added as he set to reassembling the machine.

Ange took the coins and turned, took three steps and stopped. She turned round again, “Were there any silver dollars in there?” she asked.

Zack took a moment to check, “Um, no? Why? No one really uses those.” he said.

Ange shook her head, “Oh, nothing. Just a thought.” she said and then headed for the exit.

Later that afternoon she was accepting everyone’s dogs. Word had spread as there were four more customers. She took the new names and leashes, wondering how she would control such a mob.

Then Haden was in front of her with Cerberus at his side. He placed down six coins wordlessly. Ange squinted at the coins. They were just like the errant ones from the bank!

“Haden,” she began.

“Lord Haden of The Unterwold,” interrupted Haden stiffly.

“Yes, whatever, look, we can’t accept these coins.”

“Why not?”

Ange just stood there for a moment, wasn’t it obvious?

“They’re not legal tender, you have to use our money in America. Where are they from, by the way?”

“Greece,” came the curt reply. As if that explained everything. Well, maybe for him, it did.

“So, do you have any real money?”

Haden reached into his jacket and withdrew a single note, a twenty. He looked at it and frowned before placing it on the counter. “There, that should cover things,” he said, before turning and walking out.

Ange watched Haden go intently until she was distracted by a rumbling, interested growl from Cerberus. The sound had a strange, almost harmonic quality to it. The dog looked up at her with its deep, jet black eyes. Ange looked down and patted the dog on the head. How could that man have such a good dog! She sighed and gathered up the leashes.

The walk was a repeat of Thursday and Friday, another orderly procession. The same went for the entire week. It became normal, routine. She would go to college in the morning, work at the pet store in the afternoon, took a growing number of dogs for a parade through the park and watch Haden, Lord of the bloody Unterwold handle a five dollar bill like it was on fire or something. That is, until Friday.