“That is funny,” she says, not smiling. “Daughter is very amusing and delightful. And why shouldn’t she be when she is on the Cusp of achieving her Most Magnificent Self,” she says through gritted teeth. Obviously lying. And yet I’m charmed by her troubled energy, the way she’s looking at me like I physically hurt her to look at, but she can’t look away. She looks so lonely. Lovely.
“You have so much Glow,” I tell her.
I think this compliment will soften her, but it makes her smile sharp. “My Glow is Shadows,” she says, “compared with yours, Daughter. A cold rock in the outer orbit of your Impossible Brightness. The literal embodiment of Dull.” She’s spoken the truth, she knows it. Tears fill her eyes because it stings. “I envy,” she whispers. “So much.” She looks at me through stinging tears. And I see the dark love there in her eyes. Veritable soul poison. How it loves and looks in spite of itself.
“Thank you,” I hear myself say. “I envy too.” But mine’s a lie. I don’t envy. I know I’m the Impossible Brightness. I know she is the cold rock. She sees the lie in my eyes and she runs away, crying. Everyone around us keeps dancing like nothing. Envy, it happens all the time. The harpsichord music keeps playing and the white man in the red ruff keeps singing operatically. I should follow after her. Tell her, I’m very sorry my Glow hurts your eyes. I wish we could all Glow like I do. These would be more lies, of course. I’m not sorry. I don’t wish that. But I would be very happy to tell them if only to dance with her again. I enjoyed her wanting eyes on me so much. But wait, wasn’t I looking for someone? Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice something funny. One of the jellyfish has moved very close to the glass, right beside me. The large red one that didn’t applaud when I entered the hall. I see it has a pattern like petals on its bell, how pretty. Its eyes, slanted and strange and translucent, are fixed on me. It wants to say something.
“What is it?” I hear myself ask.
“Talking to the fish, Daughter?” says an amused voice. I turn away from the tank to see the woman in red beside me now. We seem to be dancing—when did we start dancing?—and she’s smiling at me with her sharp white teeth. I look into her very blue eyes, flecked with gold like bits of sun, and I think lie.
“Not talking. Just one of them seemed to be staring at me for a while.”
I’m about to point to the jellyfish, but it’s drifted away to the opposite side of the tank now.
“Ah, the anthropomorphizing impulse,” she sighs. “We are all guilty of such projections. We impose our humanity on creatures of the Deep. Understandable, but rather… childish. Like believing in fairy tales!” She laughs. “Have another drink,” she says, taking one from a servant bearing a silver tray full of flutes. “Now tell me, Daughter, did you have any trouble getting here this evening?”
“Trouble?” I say. “No trouble.”
But I recall that there was trouble, wasn’t there? A dark, handsome face floating over mine, transfixed. The hunger of strong hands all over my body, of lips that tasted of roses. Brushing against my sin like they could never get enough. A breath hot in my ear, whispering god, god, god as my fingers gripped his dark waving hair. But I can’t tell the woman in red how I seduced the beautiful detective. So much so that afterward he fell right into sleep like my sister dreams of falling right into the sea. I watched him lie beside me, drifting against his will. You know I understand it, he murmured as he drifted.
What? I said.
You. Rouge. Why you keep going back. We all have our demons, don’t we?
I looked at his scar catching the fiery light from the window. Sunset, it must have been then. And what are your demons, Detective?
He smiled. Let’s just say I’m not invulnerable to our friends. To the Depths. That I’ve had my moments of temptation. I still do, he said, stroking my face. And as he looked at me then, I felt a pang. Deep in my chest. Of I know, I know. I, too, have been in those shadow places, those basement places. I watched his eyes close, felt his hand fall from my cheek like a cold, dead thing. And then I left him there in my blood-colored bed, his scar shining red in the darkening light of Vespers. Beautiful it was, that slash of pale, raised sin in the crimson evening shade. I leaned down and killed it. Felt a burning on my lips.
I’m sorry, I whispered to it. I have to go. I know you understand.
The only worry I had was whether he might feel the empty space I left behind. I’ll happily fill the space for you, Sister, one of my sisters offered from the living room. The one at the coffee table, deranging the flowers. She always liked him. So I put her in the bed with him and left them together. He wouldn’t notice the difference, surely. My sin was as smooth and bright as hers was now.