The Jazz Masquerade

Part Three: Hearts Ablaze

the 56^th tale of agc

written and created by Mark Bousquet

2201 / JUNE

THE BLISS - HANGAR BAY

"I do not like this, Ben-Vell," Captain America said between coughs. "What are the chances <cough> he's still here? <cough cough> The photo Kree Intelligence provided <cough> is over a week old."

Ben-Vell looked at Steve Rogers with concern. "You should have stayed behind. I can handle this. It's just one man, after all."

Steve wiped phlegm from the corner of his mouth. "Not a chance, Ben. This <cough> involves a friend. My concern <cough> is that he's no longer here."

"Even if he's not, this is the last place we know where he was."

"Still, it smells like a set-up," Cap replied, strapping his shield to his back. "Brono and the Orphans are supposed to be here already. Could be a trap."

"If there's a trap," Ben said confidently, "I can handle it. I'm pretty good with the Cosmic Awareness."

"I'm not saying that you're not-"

"I think you are," Ben snapped. "Look, Steve, just because you had problems adjusting to the powers held within the Nega Bands of Mar-Vell doesn't mean I will. Now come on, let’s go find our guy and get the heck out of here. Hopefully," he said as he stepped out of the Quinjet, "we can do this without my running into Toomi."

THE BLISS - BEHIND A BLACK CURTAIN ON THE BALLROOOM FLOOR

Daimon Hellstrom slipped between the opening of the black curtains. "Well, Rigby?" he asked the magician that served as the host of the Masquerade.

Rigby bowed low in the darkened room, then tapped his magician's wand on the ground, filling the room with a flash of white light and smoke.

"Your parlor tricks are an annoyance," the Lord of Earth Hell coughed through the smoke.

"Forgive a magician his quirks, Daimon," Rigby's eyes sparkled. "But I think you will like what is revealed when the smoke washes away!" Rigby waved his wand in one quick stroke, from the floor to the ceiling, and the smoke began to funnel upwards.

Daimon smiled. "Excellent work, Rigby," he smiled as thirty women appeared before him.

"All of them," Rigby beamed, "would so dearly love to serve you, Hellstrom, and exchange their souls for the chance to become a member of the Angelux!"

Daimon nodded. "Thirty new troops will please Doom, but the absence of two displeases me. Go out into the ball, magician. Convince Angelica Osborn and Attumidunn to give me their souls." Daimon flipped a ruby into the air, a ruby that contained the caged soul oh wife, the heroine Hellcat. "I am in need of a new pet."

THE BLISS - PRIVATE CHAMBERS OF THE JAZZ MASQUERAADE

Eshir could hear the sounds of the Jazz Masquerade lightly pulsing through the curtains as he and Licia slipped back into their clothes.

"Can I ask you a question?" Eshir asked the strawberry-blonde haired girl.

"You were fine," she winked at him from over her shoulder.

Esh didn't smile. "It's not that," he said.

Licia turned to him, her dressed pulled up only as far as her waist. "Yes?" she asked, seriously.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he answered, trying to keep his eyes on hers. "I don't suppose it matters," he said, averting his glance, "but I really did want you. It wasn't the Shi'ar alcohol."

Licia approached him and kissed him gently on his non-scarred cheek. "Thank you, Eshir. It does matter. Now, what did you want to ask me?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her to him. He was, he knew, trying to draw this moment out as long as he could. It was highly likely he would never see this young woman again. "You said you wished that I had a personal connection to your mother," he began, "when you were telling me about how the Jazz Masquerade seems to place us all with partners that fulfill some inward desire, or drive."

"Yes, that's correct," she said into his chest as her hands moved down his to touch the stumps at the end of his arms where his hands should have been. "My mother is the ruler of our House, and she is not a kindly woman. In truth," she said, keeping her eyes away from his, "she is quite insane, and her insanity fuels her viciousness. When criminals come before her, charged with the crime of arrogance, she lops off each of their hands."

"Arrogance is a crime?" he asked, holding her tighter to him.

"It is for my mother," Licia sighed, letting her weight fall into him. "She is … a dangerous woman."

"Perhaps that is the connection, then," he admitted. "I have been accused of arrogance a thousand times over the course of my short life."

Licia shrugged, "Perhaps. The workings of the Masquerade are a mystery, after all. But if you didn't lose your hands because of my mother, there is, perhaps, another connection. Maybe you have stolen from her, or battled against her forces. Tell me," Licia said, leaning back so that she could look up into his eyes, "have you ever been to Earth? You look human."

"When I was a young child I was raised on Earth," he answered, "but I have spent most of my life on Asgard."

Licia shivered, "Asgard? I thought was destroyed. That only Ice Giants lived there?"

"Destroyed?" Eshir asked, breaking his embrace. "Who told you that? Wait - you know Brono, do you not? What of him?"

Licia pulled up the top of her dress. "He's the Norn King. All that is left of Asgard is the underground palace of the Norns."

Eshir shook his head. "You have been fed lies. Asgard is the seat of the Council-"

Licia's eyes widened. "Oh my," she breathed, reaching out to touch his chest with caution, as if she believed him to suddenly not be real. "You are of the Multiverse Prime? Where the battle to save the Everything is centered?"

"Um … yes," Eshir said, confused. "Aren't we all?"

He had expected her to laugh at him, but instead she surprised him by shaking her head seriously. "No," she said, placing her palm flat on his chest. "You are aware of what Thanos was hoping to accomplish, correct?"

"The end to all life, thus forcing the end of the Everything," Eshir replied. His eyes opened wide in recognition. "Of course," he said, feeling stupid. "Thanos collapsed realities into each other, causing Crisis after Crisis as worlds separated by the Multiverse were thrust into the same space."

"There are nexus points," she began, but Eshir cut her off before she could continue.

"Man-Thing," he said, thinking of the creature that dwelled in the Forest of Midgard.

"Yes, the great plant beast," she nodded. "He is the guardian of many of the points across the Everything, but he is not able to guard all locations." She looked at him with great concern, thinking her words out before she returned to her explanation. "How did you come to the Bliss?"

"Spacecraft," Eshir said. He tried to take a step towards her but she put up her hand to stop him.

"You really are a first-timer at the Masquerade," she said under her breath, then continued. "Scattered across the Everything, Eshir, there are entrances to the Jazz Masquerade. The are located inside clubs called Bliss. There are some who think that the spaceship we're in - the Bliss - is just another entrance point to the Jazz Masquerade, and the ball itself resides in the Out of Time Dimension. Regardless, in the backs of these clubs, curtains," she tugged on the red velvet curtain that surrounded them, "begin to appear, and as one weaves their way through the curtains, they eventually find themselves here, at the Masquerade. That's why I haven't been here in over a year; the planet my mother sent me to for safety had no Bliss, and it took several trips off-world before I found one." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "I suppose …" she shook her head, "I suppose we all assume that the people we meet are from our own time and universe. It's only natural. Especially here, where no one ever really asks about anyone's history." She looked at him suddenly, excitedly.

"What?" he asked, suddenly nervous.

"Do you know Ben-Vell Parker, the Cosmic Protector and slayer of Thanos?" she asked enthusiastically.

Eshir swore. "Yeah, I know him," he said gruffly, turning away from her. "Figures," he mumbled.

"What?" she asked, innocently.

"Nothing," he groused, turning back to her, but refusing to make eye contact. "Nothing at all. Well, this was nice and all, but we should get back to the Masquerade, shouldn't we? Maybe Mr. Hero will show up and I can introduce you."

"Yikes," she said defensively. "Sorry, it's just …"

"Just what?" he asked harshly, finding her eyes with his.

She put up her hands and took a step back. "Nothing, Eshir, nothing."

"It's frecking something," he said bitterly, "so you might as well say it."

Licia looked at him nervously, but her words were soft. "I didn't know there was some bad blood between you. But, listen, Thanos' threat was to the Everything, Eshir. Every plane of existence, every plane of reality in the multiverse. His crusade collapsed worlds, Esh. Think about that. When he died, it affected everyone. Everywhere. Everywhen. Ben-Vell is a hero to billions upon billions of people." She took a step to him and reached out a hand, and he let her stroke his face. "My friends and I come to the Jazz Masquerade to escape our world. It's … the damage Thanos did to my Earth … it's unimaginable. My mother … I don't know if her condition is made worse by the devastation of our world, or not, but it surely can't help." She looked into his eyes, and their bodies once again came together. This time, however, it was to warm an ache each kept buried.

The feeling Eshir had when he met Licia came back to him then, the feeling of familiarity that he couldn't place.

He suddenly remembered that this entire conversation started when he wanted to ask her a question that he still hadn't asked. "Licia," he said, pushing her gently from him. "I meant to ask you about the tattoo you have on your lower back. It looks like a monster of some kind, but I never really got a close look at it."

"It is a monster," she said softly. "The sigil of my House. My full name is tattooed across the top and bottom: FELIC-"

"Your House? The House your mother rules?" he asked quickly, feeling something start to unravel inside him.

"Yes," she said, removing her arms from him to hug herself tightly. "The Gob-."

"Can I see it?" he asked, reaching for her. "Please."

"Esh, you're scaring me," she said, taking a step away.

"Please, Licia- wait," he said looking at her closer. "Your name. You said it was Licia, but you just said your tat con-"

"Contains my full name," she nodded, taking another step back.

Eshir felt almost faint. "Your full name. What is it? Please."

"Felicia."

"Felicia what?"

"Felicia Osborn."

Eshir felt something serious give way inside him. "Osborn?"

"What?" Licia asked. "What is it?"

Eshir looked at her, ashen white, realizing why she looked so familiar. "You don't have a sister, do you, named," he swallowed hard, "Angelica? Or maybe a cousin?" Shrabnit, he swore, how could he sleep with a girl who looked so much like Angelica without even knowing it? He shivered, thinking of her words: "The Jazz Masquerade has a way of revealing to us what we desire."

"Um, no," she said, looking at him curiously. "Angelica Osborn is my mother."

"Your … mother?" Eshir shook his head. "Freck me," he whispered, slumping back onto the bed.

THE BLISS - THE MAIN FLOOR OF THE JAZZ MASQUERADEE

Angelica waited for Brono to finish talking with an older woman before moving to him.

"Angelica," he smiled weakly as she approached. "I fear our mission here is in vain. None that I have talked to have any information to give about the whereabouts of Rahnotok, the Celestial Messiah."

She ran her hand through her hair, thinking of her conversation with Hellstrom. "I can get us that information."

"What?" he asked, surprised.

"Daimon Hellstrom is here," she informed Brono. The King's face darkened at once. "He told me he knew where Rahnotok was, and would give me the information provided that I …"

Brono placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Lay with the foul man?"

"What? No," she smiled up into his eyes. He really was the most handsome man she'd ever met. "He wanted to exchange the information for my agreeing to become an Angelux."

"Demonspawn!" Brono spat, slamming his fist into his other hand. He looked around suspiciously. "That must be the ceremony people are referring to in hushed whispers. Did thou seest the Deviant undergoing the Blooding of Fruit? Barely anyone took notice. There are whispers of a very dark ceremony to come this evening. This must be it."

"Should I make the exchange with Daimon?"

"By Odin's beard, no," Brono shook his head. "We fill find it another way, in a manner that does not lead any of you to harm."

Angel bit her lip in concentration. "It might be worth doing," she said slowly. "I have done a good deal of research into the Angelux over the years. It is not as bad as it sounds."

"Explain yourself," Brono requested, intrigued.

Angel took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "It is very similar to the ceremony that we use on Asgard to consecrate new Valkyries. There is a bonding of a soul to a specific Underworld dimension, the infusion of power into the transformed body, and then the pledging of a soul to a specific task."

"Souls should not be pledged lightly."

"No," Angel half-smiled, "they shouldn't, but one doesn't lose free will in the ceremony. Bruunhilde, the greatest of all the Valkyrior, turned against her duty to Asgard, and there's no reason she couldn't turn against Necropolis, especially with Thanos gone."

"Are thou certain of this?"

"Well," Angelica admitted, "not entirely. I don't know if Daimon could insert a tangent spell into the Ceremony that would alter its intent, but from what we've seen of the Angelux, they appear to be nothing more than bad Valkyries, if you will. I could take Daimon's offer, then split after the ceremony is completed."

"Thou wouldst still be an Angelux, I remind thee," Brono cautioned.

Angel shrugged. "There are worse things." They stood in silence for a few moments, each weighing the issue. Angelica broke the pause, confiding to Brono, "I want power." He looked at her surprised. "I don't want to be Queen of the Everything or anything like that," she said quickly, blushing at the thought of her and Toomi's childhood fantasies of becoming Brono's queen. "But all the other Orphans have a power they can rely on. I have nothing."

"Thou have the Goblin Curse in your veins," the Norn King said gently.

"Yeah," Angel hugged herself, feeling suddenly cold, "I know." She looked to Brono, wanting him to realize how serious she was. "I have done much research on the Curse over the years, Brono. I know that it awaits me somewhere down the road. More than anything in the world what I want is to be rid of it. They say the Masquerade provides for us the realization of our deepest desires. Perhaps this is my chance."

"Thou wouldst exchange one curse for another," he warned.

"I know, but at least with this one," she smiled, "I get to keep my own mind."

Brono shook his head. "No, the risk is too high. Hellstrom is not to be trusted. We will find the Messiah one our own terms." He looked down at her and a smile spread across his face, but before she could ask him why, she felt a presence come to stand beside them.

"Brono, Angelica."

Angel and Brono looked to see Captain America approach.

"Only Captain American would enter the Masquerade wearing his soldier's costume," Brono smiled. "Although, I do not think your mask qualifies as proper attire for-"

"Have you seen this man?" Cap asked gravely, holding out a photograph for them to see.

Angelica looked to study the image and her body convulsed with a sudden dread. "Who is it, Captain?"

Steve looked at Angelica, and she found herself thinking for the first time that he was starting to look like an old man. There were lines around his eyes that she had never seen before.

"Who is it?" he repeated her question. "It's an old friend. His name is Henry Pym."

THE BLISS - THE MAIN FLOOR OF THE JAZZ MASQUERADEE

Not even Rigby the Magician, the host of the Jazz Masquerade, knew exactly how the masked ball operated. As host, he had seen much over the past 250 years, but not even he could use the wonders of the Masquerade to force people to do things they did not want.

Which is why he ignored Angelica Osborn completely. He had watched Brono and his companions arrive, knowing that it was a fool's quest they were on. The Celestial Messiah was not here. He could arrive, Rigby knew, for Rahnotok was often a guest aboard the Bliss, but he was not here now. The cripple, Maximoff, was already off with some young lass, partaking of the privacy of the bedchambers. Not that it mattered, of course - Angelux needed to be women.

The Osborn girl was too stubborn to budge, and Hellstrom had already ruined any chance they had to ensnare her to participate in the Ceremony of Dark Angels with his clumsy threats. Foolish man, Rigby mused, moving easily through the crowd. The years had made the so-called Son of Satan (as if he were the only one) soft. He had never been subtle, but now he was so accustomed to simply taking what he wanted by force that he had no charm left in his damned body. A pity. The Legacy that ran through Angelica's veins would have made a particularly vicious Angelux.

Besides, he noted, the Osborn girl was engaged in conversation with Brono at the moment, and it would be impossible to put this past the King.

This other female, Attumidunn, however, was a card from a different deck altogether. It was rumored that Luna, the Celestial Madonna, had given birth to this female just prior to her death. Rigby turned his nose up in disgust. The Atlantean warlord Attuma had raped the Madonna. Rigby bore no love for Luna, but rape was inexcusable. No full-blooded Atlantean had ever been to the Masqerade here in the Out of Time Dimension; he would have tens, perhaps even hundreds, of the Everything's most beautiful women to choose from.

Some of whom even wanted to live out the fantasy of rape, though Rigby couldn't imagine what the appeal of that would be. There was no need for Attuma to take by force that which he would have in plenty elsehwere. Ah, he smiled, tapping his wand to his hat towards the Scarlet Witch priestess that had performed the Blooding of Fruit. It was a marvelous ceremony, highly entertaining, and a wild success. The Deviant who had undergone the ceremony, Chin'po, now looked truly horrific, though at least he no longer oozed that foul smell from beneath his skin.

"I'll be …" he let out a whisper, spying Chin'po in a corner, talking quietly with Attumidunn. "Perhaps this will be easier than I thought. We may actually have a chance with this one."

"Rigby!" Chin'po called to him. "Come join us, you scoundrel of a magician."

The magician sauntered across the short distance of the Masquerade to them. It was crowded around Chin'po, as partygoers stopped to admire his new body, and to congratulate him on the show he had provided for them. The crowd parted in deference to the ball's host, and Rigby could see that Chin'po's eight foot frame was now almost ten. His green scaly skin remained, though softened somewhat, and he now bore eight arms instead of four, although the bottom set emerged from his waist and not his torso. His girth was mostly gone, but his six eyes remained. He sat naked to the world, so that all could view the work of the priestess.

"Ah, Chin'po!" Rigby saluted. "A bravura performance that shall go down in the annals of the Jazz Masquerade. I understand that some of the women around Brono the Norn King were even discussing you instead of the King's own legendary performance."

"Huzzah!" Chin'po raised his six large glasses, their alcoholic contents spilling over his arms. "I tell you, magician, I have never felt better in my life!"

"What do you mean about Brono's performance?" Attumidunn asked Rigby from the chair beside Chin'po.

"Ah," the magician turned to the young woman. "You are one of Brono's guests, correct? I do not believe we have been introduced."

Chin'po answered for her. "Rigby, may I present to you the lovely Attumidunn. No last name. At least," he winked three of his eyes at her, "not that I can get out of her. Ho-ho!" The crowd around them giggled, and Chin'po continued, "Lovely, isn't she? One half Atlantean, she is. Atlantean, magician, by the gods! Look at that skin, Rigby. Have you ever seen such a beautiful shade of aqua-green?"

"No, no, I have not," Rigby bowed to Attumidunn. He reached for her hand and kissed it. "You are truly a beautiful woman, Toomi."

"Wait," she said, flustered, "how do you know my nickname is Toomi?"

"Why," Rigby smiled at her, standing straight up and playing to the crowd, "what else would it be?"

The crowd laughed and Toomi let it go. She turned to the Deviant. "I am glad that you are well, Chin'po, though I must decline your generous offer to perform with you for the Masquerade. My desires-"

"Lie elsehwere," Chin'po finished, disappointed. "Yes, I know."

"I must be going as well, old friend," Rigby said, bowing to the Deviant. "Miss Toomi, please," he offered her his arm, "let me escort you on your way."

Attumidunn took the magician's arm and let her lead him through the crowd and across the floor. "What was this about a performance by Brono?" she asked Rigby when they had found an opening in the floor.

"Hmm?" Rigby asked, distracted. "Oh, Brono's performance? Yes, quite entertaining it was."

"Tell me about it," she implored, curious.

Rigby eyed her curiously. "No, I don't think so, my dear. You strike me as the kind of woman who becomes readily jealous of her lover's past experiences."

"Brono is not my lover," Toomi said angrily, pulling her arm away from the magician.

"But you are a jealous ex-lover, at least, are you not?"

"No, of course not," she said angrily.

"Really?" Rigby asked, smiling darkly. "Turn around, my dear, and prove me wrong. There's someone I'd like you to see."

Attumidunn scowled at the magician, but did as he asked.

She felt her heart explode inside her chest.

"Ben-Vell," she whispered.

"The Jazz Masquerade has a way of revealing to us that which we desire," Rigby said quietly into her ear as he pressed in close behind her. "Tell me, Attumidunn, what do you think of his new girlfriend?"

"His new …" Toomi let the words trail into thin air. "I had heard … I mean, I thought …"

"Oh, yes, he replaced you almost immediately," Rigby whispered. "They say she is a Kree princess," the magician lied, "who provides for him in ways you would never realize."

"Sex?" she asked.

"Of course," Rigby smiled. "But that is just part of it. Apparently she is some kind of powerful warrioress, as well. They say he likes powerful women, women who can fight and defend themselves."

"I can fight," Attumidunn snapped. "I am a Valkyrie, after all."

Rigby turned her around, away from Ben. "Really? That is somewhat impressive. Still, his new girlfriend, they say, is daring and cunning, willing to take great risks for big rewards. I hear," he leaned in close, dropping his voice even lower, "that she is going to allow herself to be captured by the Army of Doom so that she may get close enough to one of Doom's generals to kill him. A Kree Princess would surely bring one to the attention of a general, don't you think? When Ben-Vell heard what she was going to do, he became instantly infatuated, and immediately decided to leave his then-girlfriend for her, discarding her immediately." Rigby looked at her seriously. "But I'm sure he would never have dumped you like that."

Toomi shook her head, feeling weak in the stomach. What was Ben doing here? And what was this magician telling her? Lies? The truth? Everyone kept saying how the Masquerade gave everyone what they wanted. Wasn't that what she wanted? To know the truth about her and Ben? But what-?

"Hello, Toomi."

Ice ran through her veins at the sound of Ben's voice. She turned to face him. "What are you doing here?"

Ben sighed. "Toomi, I am sorry about what happened. I just … there wasn't time to tell you properly. I'm sorry. I am. I didn't mean to-"

Toomi slapped him across the face. "You're a bastard, Ben-Vell Parker," she seethed. "I hear your new girlfriend is highly aggressive, Ben. That doesn't surprise me," she folded her arms across her chest. "You always were soft for a man."

Ben nodded. "I knew talking to you would be a bad idea. You never wanted me, Toomi, you just wanted to be the girlfriend of the Chosen One."

"And they don't?" she motioned to the group of women that had begun to flock towards Ben.

Ben ignored the women. "Sure," he answered angrily, "that's exactly why they want me. They don't want the person, they want the hero, the guy who killed Thanos." He took a step away from her. "You were supposed to be better than a common slut."

"How dare you speak to me like that?" She reached for a sword that wasn't there.

"Grow up," he seethed, reaching for the nearest woman. He looked bitterly at Toomi, then kissed the woman passionately before tossing her aside. He wanted to hurt Toomi for some reason he couldn't quite explain. When he looked back to his ex-girlfriend, they both had tears beginning to well in their eyes. "Why do you think I dumped you on Hala, Toomi? Because I knew then I'd become the Cosmic Protector, and the last thing I wanted to see right then was the thrill you'd get in your eyes when you heard you were the girlfriend of one of the most powerful men in the Everything. Angelica, K'Zan, even Eshir would've been concerned or happy for me, Toomi, for me, but you only would've been happy for you."

"That's not true," she said bitterly.

"Bull," he said flatly. "At least Angelica's crush on me was genuine. Why do you think I pulled away from you after she revealed her secret to us about being an Osborn?" Ben couldn't stop a tear from dropping down his face, and his voice became wracked with pain. "She kept her heart buried because of the Parker-Osborn feud. She swallowed her feelings because she was afraid of what the Goblin Curse would do to her, how it would drive her to hurt those closest to her."

"Stop it!" Toomi cried. "Stop saying these things!"

"No," Ben-Vell shook his head, the threat of tears gone. When he spoke it was with a confidence Toomi had never seen in him before. "No, I won't. Don’t you realize you're a joke, Toomi? That out of all of the Orphans, you are as big a disappointment as K'Zan? I never realized it, you know, until after I joined with the Kree. The Asgardians treated us all like kids. They say there were protecting us, but there's a difference between protection and hiding. Balder, Captain America, Dani, Bill … they hid us away from the world and we never realized it. You and I thought we were the best out of the Orphans because I was the Chosen One and you were the Valkyrie. We were the glamour couple. But the Valkyrie barely have anything to do with you, just like Balder never trained me to become the Cosmic Protector. Remember how we laughed at Esh because he's a loner, or Angel because she doesn't have any powers? While we were laughing, they were out studying to become better than what they were. You and I were content to let Time lead us to our glorious destinies. It doesn't work that way, Toomi. You've got to take hold of life and make it yours."

"Ben," Attumidunn choked, taking a step towards him.

"No," Ben put up a hand. "Our paths are no longer the same. I've embraced the challenge of my destiny. I suggest you do the same."

"But I don't know what to do!"

"We're fighting a war," he said bitterly. "Perhaps you should do your part to win it." He took another step back, "Good-bye, Attumidunn."

Toomi watched, feeling lost, as Ben disappeared into the crowd.

THE BLISS - PRIVATE CHAMBERS OF THE JAZZ MASQUERAADE

Eshir let Licia move them deeper and deeper into the curtains that surrounded them.

"I don’t think this is a good idea," she said, shaking her head.

"Yes," he answered dryly, "you've said that. Ten times. Are you sure you know where you're going?"

Licia put her foot down, turning on him. "Do you want to lead? Of course I don't know where we're going. This is the Jazz Masquerade, after all. I just know where I want to go and I trust the curtains to lead us there."

Eshir held up his arms. "My apologies. It's just … I'm anxious."

"Yeah," she replied smartly, "you've said that. Ten times. Why don’t you just tell me?"

"Once we get there," he promised.

"Fine," she threw up her hands, and started to push her way forward through the curtains again. "I don't mind telling you this is more work than it's worth. I just wanted to have some good clean enjoyable meaningless sex and you've gone and made it all serious."

Eshir smiled at her back. "I have a tendency to do that with most things."

"I bet," she turned to smile back at him, despite herself.

They could feel the curtains loosening before them. Esh looked up to see if he could see anything, but the curtains extended nearly 100 feet into the air before disappearing in a bank of clouds.

"We're here," Licia said, as they poured out into the back of a nightclub. "Welcome to my world."

"It's empty," Eshir remarked.

Licia looked at the clock on the wall. "It's early. Not even noon, yet. Now, before we go another step, I want you to tell me why you want to meet my mother, the Green Gobliness, so badly?"

Esh looked at her, and spoke with a heavy voice. "Your mother's name is Angelica Osborn. I have a friend named Angelica Osborn."

"Kinky," Licia shrugged. "There are probably a million-"

"You look enough like my friend to be her sister," Eshir explained. "Or, and I can't believe I'm saying this," he sighed.

"What?"

"You look enough like her to be her daughter," Esh finally admitted. "I think that your mother … no, I fear that your mother is an alternate universe version of my friend. And I … I've got to see what the Goblin Curse has done to her."

The Jazz Masquerade to be continued …

The Jazz Masquerade has a way of revealing to us what we desire.

YGGDRASIL

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Mark Bousquet

Northern Bear Productions

22 January 2003