Chapter 26 #2
Each dessert I ate made me only want more.
They didn’t fill me up. I never felt overstuffed.
They only made me hungrier, more achy, more needy.
I wanted to eat and eat, and oh . . . never stop, because the treats were so good, so delicious, and if I just ate a few more, then I’d feel even happier.
I couldn’t stop thinking about them; about how I wanted to eat them forever.
I’d try the towering rainbow-colored cake next.
And then the tower of red velvet cupcakes.
And then maybe I’d lean at the edge of the chocolate fountain behind the counter, smear my fingers through the pool, and lick the melted chocolate free.
Maybe Justice would even want to bathe in the chocolate fountain with me. It was bigger than a bathtub. It could fit two. We could coat ourselves in chocolate and lick it free.
Oh.
Hmm.
Finn!
I batted the thought away. There was an invisible rope a part of me was holding onto. It was annoying. It connected me to the old world. The place where people were miserable. The place where people didn’t realize that happiness was right under their noses. Here.
Justice smiled at me, gripping my hips and nipping my fingers as I brushed a strawberry against his lips.
Outside, a troupe of musicians strummed a melody that melded with the cloud’s raindrop song. The crowd was thinning, and the golden daylight was fading.
It was twilight, but the twilight that existed when there wasn’t a sun. It was like a lamp with the dimmer switch set to low.
Across the street, a couple French-kissed, stroking their hands over each other. I imagined, in seconds, they would progress beyond kissing. Justice noticed where I was looking, and when he turned back to me, his eyes were half-closed and slumberous.
“Do you think kissing here is as good as dessert?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Should we try it?”
Finn!
The rope pulsed. It glowed golden and tugged at me. I tried to shove it away.
“Mari?” Justice wiped his thumb across my cheek. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not.”
He held the glistening tear up to the light. “Then what’s this?”
“Happiness.”
Justice stared at me and wiped my cheeks with his thumbs, brushing away the wet. “You must be really happy.”
I nodded. “I am.”
He turned when the women who’d been serving us wandered past, out toward the street. “Where are you going?” he called.
They pointed in the direction of the city center. “The festival. It’s almost time! Come on!”
I clutched Justice’s shoulders. Wrapped my legs around him. “Should we go?”
He nodded and carried me, following the women into the street. While the crowd was thinner, it was still moving swiftly enough to push us along. A woman cartwheeled past, and another, wearing white flower garlands, belted out a sweet song. A man handed us two pipes and said, “You’ll like this.”
Justice tried it, and when his eyes widened in delight, I shrugged and joined him. It tasted like bubblegum and filled me with a buoyant helium-balloon lightness. It was better than the desserts. Better than anything.
The cloudlights dimmed, and Justice’s eyes sparkled mossy-green and happy.
It was getting hot, so I pulled off my coat and dropped it to the stone road.
Justice juggled me and his pipe and slipped his off too.
Then it was even hotter, so I slipped off my top, leaving only my bra and pants.
Justice pulled free his T-shirt. His shoulders were freckled, but the rest of him was covered in tattoos.
Swirls, slashes, spears, and knives. I clamped the pipe in my teeth, breathing in the bubblegum-flavored steam, and traced his tattoos with the lacy flower petals.
There were lights ahead, and a giant stone arena lit with hundreds of gas lanterns. The fire danced and glowed, drawing us in like moths to a flame.
The arena was as big as the Colosseum but more beautiful. Stone columns lined every entrance, and bas-relief carvings decorated the walls. Everywhere I looked, artwork adorned the facade. There were no somber or stately statues; there was only pleasure and passion.
“It’s beautiful.”
I dragged my hand over the cold stone, touching the stone lips of two people kissing. The crowd thickened as we were funneled into a narrower path leading into the arena. The walls arched over us, and voices and footsteps echoed on the stone.
I smiled as the jasmine scent thickened. I was hot again. I squirmed, wanting to push off my jeans. We weren’t the only ones stripping down. Lots of people had shed clothes. What was the need for modesty? If clothing made you unhappy or uncomfortable, you should take it off.
I kicked off my shoes, and then Justice laughed as I wriggled out of my jeans.
“This is the life,” I said. I’d dropped the pipe along the path, but the flowers were still in my arms. They whispered against my bare skin, tickling my chest. The pollen coated me in a white, silvery dusting.
Justice made a happy noise in his throat. “We should’ve tossed ourselves into a Den years ago. No Jagger. No pain. No fear. Just . . . this.”
Justice boosted me higher against his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his neck.
We’d reached the end of the tunnel, and the giant arena opened before us.
I blinked at the light flooding the center field.
It was grassy, covered in white flowers, and as large as a football field.
Stone benches rose around the field, enough to seat thousands.
The stadium was full of people, and the hum and roar of them echoed around us.
The festival atmosphere had continued, with music, food, and drink. Some people kissed; others groped but most people drank and stared at the field—waiting, I suppose, for the festivities to start.
“Let’s sit down,” Justice said, starting toward the upper level of the bleachers.
A short man shoved against us. He was dressed like a clown. One side of his silk outfit was white, the other banana-yellow. Lace ringed his throat, and there was a bright red ball on his nose. His face was painted white, with yellow tears dripping from his eyes.
“Top row, sixth seat to the left. Look under it,” he said in a guttural whisper. He slipped through the crowd, climbing the steps.
“Was he talking to us?” I frowned after him.
Justice nodded. “Think so.”
“Should we?” I motioned to the top row.
“Never trust a clown.” Justice shook his head.
“Yes . . . but . . . everyone’s been really nice here.”
So Justice climbed to the top row, carrying me hundreds of steps up, and then dropped me onto the stone bench. The row was empty. It seemed most of the people wanted to be closer to the arena. He crouched and looked under the bench.
“Huh. It’s a . . . What is it?”
He held out a small bottle. It was full of green liquid. On the stopper, there was a string, and on the string, there was a small paper label.
“‘One drop for heaven, two drops for hell,’” I read.
Justice shook his head. “No. Not a chance. I’ve spent enough of my life in hell.”
The clown popped out from behind the column, and I shrieked and dropped the bottle. It clattered against the stone, and the clown dropped to knees, scrambling after it.
“Idiot! Fool! What’s wrong with you?” He cradled the bottle to his chest and glared at me. “Can’t you read?”
“What?” I raised my eyebrows.
He stood and held out the label, pointing at the words.
Justice leaned forward. “Mari, you read it wrong. It says, ‘Drink me for your pleasure.’”
“Exactly.” The clown rolled his eyes and pulled the stopper free.
He handed the bottle to me. I sniffed the liquid. “It smells like green apples and . . . mint.” I narrowed my eyes. “Is this poison?”
I didn’t know of any poisons that smelled like this, but you never knew.
The clown rolled his eyes. “Why would I poison you? You finally came after me, didn’t you? Did Jagger send you? Harry?”
Wait a minute.
I narrowed my eyes and took in the clown’s features. Standing, he only came up to my chest. He had a wide, square face, a squished nose, and brown eyes that were too large and too close together to be human.
I gasped. “Slipshot! You’re the new slipshot—”
The clown clapped slowly. “Real nice. Genius. Congratulations. You figured it out.”
“You’ve been here for years—”
“Yes. So many long, miserable, spawn-of-hell years.”
Justice snorted. “This guy’s funny.”
“Uh-huh. I’m a bag of laughs. Look. Drink up. It’ll make the show real interesting.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t so sure.
There was something odd about this slipshot.
For one thing, he didn’t seem as happy as everyone else.
He actually seemed pretty miserable. “Maybe you should have some desserts. Or . . . a pipe. Would you like a pipe?” I asked, feeling a bit sorry for him.
“Look. Mari. It’s Mari, right?”
I nodded.
“And Justice.”
Justice stared at him. He had a light in his eyes that I knew meant he was wondering whether or not he was going to have to stab a clown.
“I’ve been here years. I know the ropes. If you really want to enjoy the show, you drink the juice. Here—I’ll show you. That way, you know it isn’t poison.” He tilted back the bottle, pursed his lips, and took a small sip.
I waited for him to explode or collapse or turn into a worm. None of that happened. He just let out a long exhale, wiped his lips, and smiled.
“Oooh. Look at that.” He stared at the field. “It’s beautiful!”
“What?” There was nothing in the field. It was completely empty.
“The show! You have to drink the juice to see the festival. Everyone else can see it. You’ll love it. It’s . . .” He looked back at me. “It’ll make you so happy.”