A Circle of Celebrations: The Complete Edition by Jody Lynn Nye Page A

more exalted, and just plain better than the man on the street. No matter that in their normal lives they were plumbers and store clerks; tonight they were the elite, with over a hundred years of history behind them. He sailed into masquerades, dinners, dances, and discos, buoying the pride that each man and woman had in themselves and the spirit of the day.
    Envy’s mortals hung around the doors of the same hotels, wishing with all their hearts that they could pass through those portals and into the exalted enclaves, resenting those who could. Pride patted Envy on the shoulder as he went by. She shot him such a look of hate that he felt pity for her.
    In the Orpheus party, masked dancers filled the room, but the walls were lined with tables manned by catering staff dressed in waistcoats and white gloves. They helped the guests to an opulent buffet of food and drink ranging from jambalaya to beignets, champagne to whisky. Gluttony, a plate in each hand and one balanced on each arm, gave him a nod from behind a gold pig’s mask. Pride sampled a taste of each dish, bestowed well-deserved compliments and energy upon the caterers, and departed for the next party. He crossed paths with all of his companions at one party or another. Greed danced with a wealthy man wearing huge diamond cufflinks on his ruffled French cuffs. She wore a priceless gold necklace taken from a dead king of Persia over eight centuries before. Each coveted the other’s treasure. Pride could see they were blissfully happy.
    Lust was in the corner of every ballroom, whispering suggestions into the ears of masked couples who stole moments away from their mates or chaperones. Sloth lolled at his leisure on couches surrounded by those who had eaten, drunk or danced their fill and didn’t want to bestir themselves further. Envy appeared at the shoulder of servers who waited upon the honored guests but were never part of the party. She, too, was amassing followers within doors as well as without.
    To Pride’s surprise and relief, Anger was absent from any of the events he attended. Everyone was being well-behaved and temperate. With so much alcohol and stimulation, it was … unnatural. Anger could not have ignored the divine summons to service there in New Orleans, nor would he lack adherents. The streets were full of drunks spoiling for a fight after Gluttony filled them with liquid courage. Midnight would strike soon, when the holy time of Ash Wednesday descended, offering peace and salvation to those who embraced the divine strictures of self-denial and penance.
    Then he felt it. The sensation was so strong he did not understand how he had missed it. Red-brown waves of fury and hatred washed into the room, so that even couples paired by Lust stopped to look at one another in suspicion. Pride was beside himself with outrage. Anger had no right to ruin events for him!
    Time and distance were no barriers to communication with his fellow Manifestations.
    “Anger!” he demanded, knowing his voice would reach the other’s ears. “Stop it at once!”
    “I can’t!” Anger growled. “Come out and help me!”
    Pride was so astonished that he didn’t make a sour comment about the other’s attack of humility. He rushed out of the ball. As he passed Greed, he took her by the arm.
    “I almost had those diamonds,” she complained.
    “Anger needs us. He is outside.”
    Greed’s mouth dropped open with shock. Abandoning her quarry, she undulated toward the buffet table and removed Gluttony from his leisurely perusal of the dessert trays.
    “Enough!” she commanded. “Go find Sloth. We need him.”
    “Oh, have pity!” he wailed. “I need my nourishment before it’s too late. Midnight is striking.”
    Indeed it was, Pride remarked. Bells in church towers all over the city began to peal, a cascade of commanding tones to the revelers to give up their earthly pleasures, in anticipation and certain hope of the heavenly treasures that would await them. Pride