Firetale by Dante Graves Page B

checked
it , feeling
stupid. The tag was tied around the big toe of his right
foot.
    “ Mr. Bernardius, I’m here on
behalf of a gentleman who wants to offer you a job,” said the
stranger, slicing off a piece of the apple. Lazarus looked closer
at the apple. It was red, almost black, and in some places it was
covered with dark spots of rot. Lazarus winced.
    “ You’re a friend of my father?”
he asked.
    “ No. Look, Mr. Bernardius, I
realize you are lost. Not many have found themselves in this place.
No one, to be honest. So you probably have many questions. The man
I work for can answer all of them. And he wants to invite you to
work for him. The decision will be yours. But, in any case, if you
want to learn how you got here and why you were attacked twice in
one week, you’d better come with me.”
    “ Come with you?
When?”
    “ The person who wants to talk to
you does not usually have a lot of time. We have to go
today.”
    “ But my stuff. I’ve been living
for two weeks like a vagabond, without changing my
clothes.”
    “ Nothing to worry about,” the
stranger said. He pulled a bundle out from somewhere behind him and
threw it on the table next to Lazarus. “Here is your suit. Shall we
go?”
    “ Yes, I agree,” Lazarus said. He
was confused, but he reasoned that if the stranger wanted to harm
him, a more convenient location than the morgue was hard to
imagine.
    “ Fine,” said the stranger. He
pulled the apple open with his fingers and pulled out a worm. He
held it up to the light, as if admiring it, and then he put it in
his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He licked his fingers and smiled
at Lazarus.
    “ What are you waiting for, Mr.
Bernardius? Get dressed.”
    Lazarus Bernardius was accustomed to
living simply. After the death of his father, who wasn’t shy about
showing how wealthy he was, and after the affairs of the cotton
plantation had gone awry, Lazarus and his mother, humble and pious
people, led a very unpretentious life.
    The carriage of the
black-and-white gentleman, whose name Lazarus
hadn ’t asked,
took them to the door of a pompous-looking building in the Greek
Revival style. The building was huge, and its opulence made it
clear that commoners were not allowed to enter. Obviously, anything
hiding behind its heavy doors was available only to the richest
citizens.
    “ We are at St. Charles Avenue?”
asked Lazarus. He tried to look around. When Mr. Bernardius and the
black-and-white stranger had left the waiting mortuary, it was
early evening. It had taken some time to get here, but the street
was already dead-of-night dark, and Lazarus could barely see the
houses around the mansion.
    “ Come on.” Lazarus’s companion
ignored the question and gently took him by the arm, leading him up
steps to the entrance of the building.
    The inside of the house struck Mr.
Bernardius even more than the outside. A room with an incredibly
high ceiling was filled with tables at which people, old and very
rich, were dining. The suit the stranger had given Lazarus in the
morgue at first seemed too snazzy. It may have been unwise to
appear on the streets wearing it, but in this place to dress
differently would be unacceptable. Ladies were bedecked with
jewels, and their companions wore suits that would have cost an
entire library of the Bernardius estate.
    “ What is this place?” Lazarus
asked the black-and-white stranger.
    “ A restaurant,” came the
reply.
    “ What’s it called? It must be
famous throughout the city!”
    The stranger pointed to a gilded sign
above the entrance. It depicted tongues of flame, with twisted
horns above them and flaunting hooves underneath.
    “ It serves only meat?” asked
Bernardius.
    “ It serves anything you can
afford to order,” the black-and-white stranger said with a smile.
“We have to go, Mr. Bernardius.”
    The stranger led Lazarus between
tables. The waiters seemed not to notice the two guests, nor did the other
diners. Bernardius was turning his