Free How to be Death by Amber Benson Page A

hinges creaking as Jarvis, clad in a tailored black tuxedo, gold cufflinks, and shiny black dress shoes with gold buckles, swung the door open and stepped inside, instantly slipping his pince-nez onto the end of his nose so he could give us a quick once-over. Pleased by what he saw, he smiled and brought his hands together happily, rubbing them in anticipation.
     
    “Noisette has outdone herself with that gown,” he purred. “Do a spin, Calliope. I want to see the ruching in the back.”
     
    I rolled my eyes, embarrassed, but obliged him by doing a quick turn in place, the dress gracefully flowing around me as I baby-stepped in a circle.
     
    “Perfect!” Jarvis said, giving me a wide smile. “Ladies, I have to say, you both look exquisite.”
     
    “You look great, too, Jarvis,” Runt said. “And we were both ready on time just for you.”
     
    “Yes, and that impresses me most of all,” Jarvis agreed. “Shall we go then?”
     
    He offered me his arm, which I accepted, and the three of us left the comfort of the suite, stepping out into the tepid October night.
     
    “who’s that?” i asked as we passed a tall man I’d never seen before standing in the courtyard. He was wearing a dark suit and tie, an earpiece plugged into his right ear. He nodded to Jarvis as we passed by, his eyes giving my scantily clad upper body a discreet once-over that was both embarrassing and exciting.
    Well, at least I knew the gown was a success.
     
    “That,” Jarvis said, once the man was out of earshot, “is a bodyguard. A human one.”
     
    “For who?” I said, trying not to trip over the bottom of my dress as I walked. I hadn’t really thought much about mobility when I’d sat with Noisette in her shop, oohing and aahing over her concept for the gown, but reality was a bitch. It took everything I had to walk, talk, and not trip over myself at the same time.
     
    “For whom,” Jarvis corrected, as if he were a member of the grammar police.
     
    “Yes, for whom, whatever.”
     
    “As you know, at midnight all magic ceases and for the next twenty-four hours you and all the rest of the immortals—”
     
    “Including us,” Runt chimed in.
     
    Jarvis nodded. “Yes, that includes hellhounds and Executive Assistants, who happen to be immortal, too—”
     
    As we left the courtyard, I tripped over a loose stone and Jarvis had to grab my arm so I wouldn’t fall flat on my face.
     
    “Stupid dress,” I said under my breath, annoyed by how vulnerable being all gussied up made me feel.
     
    “As I was saying before you almost wiped out back there,” Jarvis continued, ignoring my glare. “For the next twenty-four hours we are all mortal—”
     
    I stopped in my tracks, digging my heels in where I stood, wondering why Jarvis had left this crucial piece of information out of the, like,
five
previous briefings we’d had about the Death Dinner.
     
    “Excuse me, but rewind please, Jarvis.”
     
    “Let’s just keep moving,” Jarvis said, but I’d staked my place on the walkway, and like a stubborn mule, I wasn’t moving until I got some answers.
     
    “Uh-uh, ‘you got some ’splainin’ to do, Lucy,’” I growled at him, doing my best Desi Arnaz impression.
     
    Jarvis sighed, knowing it would be easier to do his explaining now rather than spend ten minutes arguing with me.
     
    “I didn’t want to frighten you—”
     
    “Frighten me?” I interrupted. “You’re not frightening me, you’re just, like, leaving me majorly out of the loop. To the point where I’m gonna look like an idiot in front of the people you want me to impress.”
     
    “Oh, yes, I do see how that could—”
     
    I cut him off.
     
    “Jarvis, I’m here. I’m invested. I want to do this. I just need you to treat me like an adult and give me all the pertinent information so I can do my job correctly.”
     
    It took Jarvis a full minute of openmouthed silence to process what I’d said. He’d spent so long trying to